


Of Candy Canes and Lipstick Stains

by RomanosCheese



Series: Verkwan Smut [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Smut, Come Shot, Crossdressing, Crying During Sex, Emotional Sex, Frottage, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Oppa Kink, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Riding, Spanking, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, bottom!seungkwan, foodplay, tired!jihoon, top!hansol, whipped!seungkwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 23:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16880943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanosCheese/pseuds/RomanosCheese
Summary: Seungkwan badly wishes for his oblivious boyfriend to take off the horrendous chimera of reds and greens that is the holiday sweater his – undoubtedly blind – Secret Santa decided to gift him. Gift being, of course, a very generous word.Hansol badly wishes for Seungkwan to put on the less-than-innocent but nonetheless festive attire his not-so-secret Santa had picked out for him. Preferably, without getting his ass kicked in the process.Jihoon doesn't have any special requests. He would simply like a little peace and quiet on one of the rare nights of the year he isn't completely drowning in work. In the end (and unfortunately for Jihoon), only one of these three wishes comes true on Christmas Eve.~"I bet you'd look dead sexy in a miniskirt, though.""Hansol, the only one who's going to be anything remotely 'dead' in the very near future is you!"





	1. Get Your Christmas Cheer On!

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING:
> 
> 1\. There's a comedic story line weaved throughout all this somehow, but If you came solely for the smut feel free to jump straight to ch. 3 (though I advise you to read ch. 2 as well to better understand why Seungkwan's feeling the way he is).
> 
> 2.I wrote this almost two years ago during Boom Boom era (they were both 18 internationally and closing on 19 according to their Korean age). 
> 
> 3\. This is kind of a sequel to a smut I posted on aff (Scream Your Voice Hoarse).You don't necessarily have to read it - It's pretty lackluster if I'm being completely honest with myself (hence why I didn't repost it here). Just know that Seungkwan and Vernon accidentally recorded themselves while having sex (in Jihoon's studio, yes, and they had premission from him cause he's a total softie for maknae line) and everyone eventually found out about it. Oh! and also that Hansol called Seungkwan ‘Princess’ while they were fooling around. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy and early Merry Christmas/current Happy Hannukkah !

  
It's been a little over two months since the so called ‘life changing event’ had occurred; the one that made the members of SEVENTEEN question reality as it once used to be.

It's been a little over two months since Seungkwan and Hansol's ‘bonding’ tendencies have been made known to the rest of the group,  and although (admittedly-not-very) shocking and relatively new as it was for all of them, everyone has seemed to fall back into usual routine.  
  
It’s been a little over two months since the aforementioned incident had taken place, and to their credit, the SEVENTEEN boys haven’t been showing any signs of outright disdain toward the freshly outed couple. One could even say they were taking to the foreign idea of two of their youngest members dating each other quite well. Too well, actually. As in, developing even less tasteful inside jokes than what was already considered a very low standard of humor, and making insensitive jabs at the two poor love-birds on every available chance. Even going as far as playfully coining the date that marked their unintentional coming out as the detested, _Recording_ _Session_ _XXX_ or, _Loss_   _of_ _Innocence_ _Day_ (and in Mingyu's case, just a big, fat and very passionate _**Nope**_ ).  
  
It’s been a little over two months and Jihoon can still remember the way which everything unfolded on the day of the discovery, down to the most excruciating detail. So much so, that it almost seems as if he had been a witness to an heinous crime. In a sense that he has no other option but to relive the things that have happened on that day time and time again, as if he’s revisiting deeply repressed and highly traumatic memories.  
  
If Jihoon were to draw any kind of comparison, he’d link the occurrence to one of the stories he often finds himself hearing about in the news: ghastly retellings of extreme displays of violence that happened after someone had too much to drink.

Yes, indeed. A morbid assault – this is a pretty appropriate and near perfect analogy to make, in his own humble opinion. Seeing as no person should've screamed as loudly or turn as brightly red as Seungkwan did when he joined everyone at practice that one cursed morning. Unless there was some kind of brutal murder involved somehow, that is.  
  
But Jihoon, despite of himself, is willing to give Seungkwan the benefit of the doubt and say that he wasn't hell-bent on killing his eardrums completely from the get-go. In fact, Seungkwan would've most likely ignored the awkward atmosphere that was present in the practice room that day, if not for Seungcheol's stupid insistence to comment on his strange way of walking in an attempt to make him spill the beans.

That little note, Jihoon has ultimately discerned, could've been easily brushed off as nothing but innocent concern and things would’ve surely progressed in a much calmer manner if Seungcheol were the only one to speak up. But then of course, Soonyoung (being the comedic genius he is) had to go and make a dumb joke involving the phrases: ‘ _Princess_ ' _gratitude_ ’ and a ‘ _knight's_ _shaft_.’

After that, there was no hiding back the truth. Once Soonyoung let those loaded words leave his mouth into the tension-heavy air of the practice room, all hell broke loose; Seungkwan's eyes became the size of saucers and his cheeks burned a dark crimson shade, Wonwoo burst into maniacal laughter and Jihoon couldn't help but facepalm. Hard.  
  
Most of the following days were then spent trying to persuade a very flustered Seungkwan to come out from where he had holed himself up in his room (a task that proved to be much more difficult to execute than to be talked about in theory).

What made him give in eventually and come out of the dormitory to join the rest of society were a few choice remarks made by no other than the rom-com enthusiast, Wen Junhui – a tear inducing, half-an-hour-long speech about the beauty of love that made Seungkwan rush to the closest bathroom with his stomach churning. Or that is, at least, what the self-anointed ‘relationship guru’ would like to testify.

But in all truth, Minghao is the one who deserves the actual credit. After all, it was him who screamed at the top of his lungs in front of a completely unassuming and innocent door for what must have been an entire ten minutes straight, after a truly desperate and spent-looking Jisoo came running to him as a last resort, practically begging for help (since neither him or Seokmin could find it within themselves to do something about their stubborn roommate, who had refused to let the two of them in for the night so they could get some very much needed shut-eye).  
  
Oh, it was for certain Minghao’s very own voice that kept on shouting profanities in an attempt to coax Seungkwan to, "Stop being a total wuss!" and "Come out here to face your very concerned friends and take the hand of the guy you're screwing like a man!" at no less than three fucking AM on a Monday! Which – by the way –  only made the guy Seungkwan was quote-on-quote ‘screwing’ go a very confused, “Wait just a sec... You guys know that me and Seungkwan have been... doing stuff?” and give the rest of the members a thoroughly flabbergasted scan-over.

Sometimes, Jihoon would catch himself having some pretty dangerous and borderline psychotic cravings. Like the sudden urge to bash the heads of his bandmates with a cement brick, for example.

“Wait, does _Seungkwan_ know that you guys know that we’ve been doing stuff?”

That moment right then was most definitely one of those times.

  
By the time Seungkwan had made up his mind to show his stupid blushing face outside the bedroom, everyone was already awake, sprawled broadly across different surfaces in the living room in varying states of consciousness and nightwear (from vibrantly-colored, cartoon-character patterned pajamas to awfully tight boxer briefs that didn’t leave much room for the imagination).  
  
Jihoon had to thank every celestial being and god he knows the existence of for the presence of one magnificent man in the name of Choi Seungcheol, because if not for him sending eleven hysterical boys (and a single irritated Jihoon) off to their respective beds, the absurd shenanigans would’ve most likely continued long into the night and no one would’ve been able to do much of anything the following day.

“C’mon, Kwannie. Stop trying to run away. No one’s gonna say anything. They’re all going to be sleeping soundly in their rooms soon enough, anyway,” the leader tried to reason with the agitated boy then, all while making sure to shoot a very broad and meaningful smile towards the rest of the sleepy occupants of the cramped living room. “Right, guys?”

  
“R-right!”  
  
But it didn’t end just there. Oh no, not by a long shot.

To this day, Jihoon still has to be constantly reminded of their now-less-than-optimal circumstances by multiple – equally annoying – ways.  
  
Every time Soonyoung deems appropriate during training breaks (or just whenever he feels like it, really), he’d poke fun at Seungkwan, saying things along the lines of: “I see you’ve been teaching Hansol how to reach his high notes a lot more lately,” or, “I’ve heard rappers are very quick and skillful with their tongues. Would you care to share some input on the matter?”

The younger would immediately spring up from whatever position he’s in on the linoleum floor of the practice room and go searching for the nearest sharp object, and Jihoon – who had long become Seungkwan’s private therapist – is the one who ultimately gets the short end of things.  
  
It took some time and a little of warming up to do on the side of Jeonghan (since according to him, ‘his pure and innocent baby had been corrupted for whole of eternity’ – which one exactly, he didn’t care to specify) but eventually, he became a very big and fundamental part of the teasing. Now, he never thinks twice before blurting out an extremely racy comment for what Jihoon wholeheartedly believes is the sole purpose of making his life into a complete living hell.

Even Mingyu seemed to join in on the fun at some point. And by that, Jihoon of course means that he’d come around the studio every working hour he has to himself to talk his ear off about how absolutely revolting Seungkwan and Hansol are being with their disgusting pet names and blatant PDA.

“I swear, hyung, if I have to hear even one more Vernonie or Seungkwannie I’m going to set something on fire!”

And for those exact same words, Jihoon had sworn to himself to be extra careful around food and during shared mealtimes, because knowing Mingyu, he’d probably confuse him for Hansol and end up accidentally slipping poison into his ramen or something.  
  
Honestly speaking, Jihoon can give much – much – more examples of similar instances. Because for God’s sake, this whole fucking ordeal is shaping out to be just another huge competition of who can give him a bigger headache! He can probably write a full essay on all the numerous ways each of his bandmates have been adamantly trying to get on his nerves as of late. And fuck, don’t even get him started on Seungcheol – their ‘rational’ leader.  
  
For all his so-called ‘compassion’ and ‘endless amount of understanding’, Seungcheol (who is, in fact, the oldest member of the group and therefore supposed to set a mature example for the younger ones) doesn’t seem to be that much better than any of the ‘pranksters’ or ‘naggers’ mentioned above.  
  
His method of adjusting to the new situation is probably the most painful to watch out of all of them. Because at least the others are well aware of what they are doing, why they are doing it, and that they are most likely coming off as a bunch of total dickbags to anyone involved in their stupid fuckery. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is entirely oblivious to the fact that he is starting to become just a tad bit obsessive.

Jihoon has made himself a habit of watching out for him on every time either Seungkwan or Hansol come over to the studio to record or work on something, in case he’d decide to disturb them in the middle for whatever lame excuse. On such occasions, Seungcheol can be often spotted patrolling the company building with long, strident steps, or standing close by to the studio entrance with folded arms and an imposing, upright posture – guarding the glass door like a watchdog.  
  
No number of especially wild noogies or aggressive roughhousing directed at one very unfortunate Boo Seungkwan could ever convince Jihoon that Seungcheol isn’t even the least bit concerned about him.

It has come to the point where it’s so glaringly obvious, that Jihoon can't help but make a comment about it.

“Lately you’ve been acting like his overprotective dad or something. You know, Hansol is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Probably the nicest I’ll ever have the chance of meeting, if we’re being totally honest,” Jihoon says one evening, after Seungcheol bids Seungkwan farewell by performing a headlock on him; a stunt that almost results in Seungkwan choking to death.

They are both watching from inside the studio, noting the countless fiery complaints the younger grumbles under his breath on his furious way out. Seungcheol is leaning against the wall opposite to the producer station; which Jihoon is seated in front of, a single forearm propped on the back of his black swivel chair and body stretched backwards in Seungcheol’s direction, so he can have a better look at the dopey smile that’s beginning to spread across the latter’s entire face.  
  
Jihoon expects a lot of things to happen after making his observation. Seungcheol lurching forward with uncontrollable laughter, wheezing and shaking violently until he’s gasping for air isn’t one of them.

“You think I’m trying to defend Seungkwan? Trust me, Seungkwan doesn’t need my protection,” he makes a point of his statement by waving his hand about dismissively, wiping the tears that have formed in his eyes during his mad cackling fit with two exceptionally shaky fingers. “Hansol’s the one I’m actually worried about in this relationship.”  
  
“Right...” Jihoon says blankly, rolling his eyes at the sight of an overly amused Seungcheol, who’s trying to straighten as much as he can of his dishevelled clothes, smoothing any folds that have been created due to his previous display of extreme contortion.

“I’m saying that I’d greatly appreciate it if you keep an eye on the two of them,” the leader collects himself long enough to be able to walk toward Jihoon and give his shoulder a very purposeful squeeze, “just in case.”

Jihoon doesn't budge, instead he chooses to quirk one of his eyebrows in an identical amount of purposeful skepticism. “And suppose I do that, what are you exactly planning on doing if something does happen between them?”  
  
“Then I’ll have no other option but to break something.” Seungcheol shrugs, then makes a motion of rubbing his knuckles against the palm of his left hand. Jihoon snorts.

“You know, you aren’t supposed to be picking favorites...” He once again, finds himself rolling his eyes.  
  
“I’m not, I’m just looking out for my fellow teammate! You know how sensitive he is. It’s practically my duty – the leader has got to do whatever is necessary to keep a state of harmony between the group members!” Seungcheol argues vehemently.

“And that includes beating up another one of your teammates?” Jihoon counters back. Seungcheol tilts his head slightly to the side, momentarily thinking about it.

“Sometimes, yes. If the situation calls for it.” He eventually nods approvingly to himself and flashes a giant toothy grin right in Jihoon’s face.  
  
Fucking hell. Sometimes, Jihoon forgets that Choi Seungcheol is more than capable of being one hell of a creepy motherfucker. He could probably smash someone’s head into a bleeding pulp and still maintain a full-blown giddy smile as he crushes their bones under his bare fists.

Yup, Choi Seungcheol is a very scary fella indeed. Not to mention a complete and utter dumbass and a ginormous softie at heart (so he’d never seriously consider hurting another living creature in his life. Like, ever). But that’s besides the point.  
  
“Hyung,” Jihoon places his hand on top of Seungcheol’s, which is still gripping his shoulder seemingly for no reason. The older is beaming down at him with a dumb and disturbingly soft expression, fingertips continually brushing circles into his skin in an overly affectionate manner. “Yes, Jihoon-ah?”  
  
“Please get yourself out of my studio before the situation calls for me to do something about it.”

Jihoon feels genuinely bad for Seungkwan. He really does. All the pestering and taunting are bound to damage one’s mental health at some point or another. Not that he doesn’t care for Hansol’s well being whatsoever. It’s just that a good portion of the teasing that’s been aimed at him so far has went completely over his head, and the rest just doesn't seem to affect him at all; so the members simply don’t bother with him anymore. Instead, they choose to target Seungkwan, who is one hundred percent guaranteed to have some sort of reaction at all given times.  
  
Jihoon more than anyone else knows how diligent and hard working Seungkwan has been during and previous to their recent promotions. How absolutely exhausted he must be after all the sleepless nights he had spent on working and bettering himself alongside him at the studio. And how pretty freaking soon he needs to have some proper human contact in order to not effectively crack under the immense pressure he has been put under. Pressure that he has been put under by his own damn self, at that! That kid is way too ambitious – he even wrote the fan-chant for their title song completely of his own accord!  
  
Seungkwan doesn’t have to do half the things he does, but he strongly persists, and Jihoon respects that about him a lot. Appreciates him in his life a tiny bit more because of that.

That’s why three days prior to December 24th, when Jihoon comes to the conclusion he can’t put off buying a present (as part of the Secret Santa game Chan had initiated – the brat) anymore and comes all the way to an impressive-sized shopping center to do just that, he finds himself standing reluctantly in front of a Victoria’s Secret shop. Because, that’s like, a place for all the sexy stuff. Isn’t it?

Fuck. He’s really bad at this sort of stuff. And he definitely doesn’t put himself past admitting that he isn’t brave enough to delve deeper and find out more about the topic, either.

“What am I doing?” Jihoon sighs to himself, teeth digging relentlessly into his bottom lip in the hopes it would help conceal some of the burning sense of shame he’s feeling, as he attempts to gather enough courage, venture into the unknown and finally enter the shop.

He has been standing in front of it for what seems like eternity, hidden safely behind a colorful standee positioned near the entrance of a big toy store. Three overly chirpy workers have already went out on completely different occasions and asked him if he would like to come inside and look at the toys more closely. Which is just: A. Plain insulting and B. A good indication of how long he’s actually been there.

Now, Jihoon might just be a prude, but dare he ask who the fuck designed this place? Putting a Victoria's Secret shop right in front of one meant for children? That’s got to be one of the stupidest decision he’s ever heard of!

“What am I doing?”

Approximately fifteen minutes (and a lot of beating himself up) later, Jihoon is standing in a state of complete mortification in front of a frighteningly pink shelf, contemplating which one of the lotions he’s holding in either of his hands has more of a sexual allure: the ‘Cocoa Passion’ one or the, ‘Wet Citrus Dream’.

The looks of pure judgement that are pointedly directed his way when female shoppers pass by him with their girlfriends, send his brain into a state of complete disarray, and so, by the the time the meticulously groomed cashier finishes ringing up the products he had awkwardly laid on her counter and cheerfully informs: “That will be a total of 60,000 won, Sir,” Jihoon can’t manage any form of protest and instead, instantly stutters a rapid, “t-thank you so much,” in response.  
  
When the bitter realization he's just spent a small fortune on what is essentially some weird, smelly paste in an awfully gaudy tube hits him, Jihoon is already back at the studio and is unable to do anything about it. He pushes Seokmin’s Christmas gift and the perfume-sprayed rose petals he bought (to set a ‘romantic mood’, or something equally cringey like that) together with the golden lotion into some hidden drawer in his desk, in an attempt to forget all about the purchase he’s made.

Jihoon’s deliberate ignorance doesn’t last for long, though. He is immediately reminded of his painful visit by a greatly joyful and hyperactive Soonyoung, who barges straight into the recording room and catches him red-handed – blushing head to toe in the middle of trying to squeeze half a dozen scented candles alongside the rest of the questionable items he is now the ‘proud’ owner of.

Soonyoung simply flashes him one of his annoyingly suggestive smiles, and makes quick steps to join him by his side of the room.

“Were you at Victoria’s Secret?” comes the inevitable question as Soonyoung picks amusedly at the pink-to-pinker shopping bag that’s placed on the computer desk.  
  
It’s an early morning hour, which means that they are the only two still left in the company. Despite that fact, Jihoon feels as though he’s going through an act of public humiliation when Soonyoung quickly snatches one of the artificially-colored candles out of his weak grasp with a curious hum and proceeds to read the small, yellowish label on the pretty, ribbon decorated packaging.

“Cheesecake? Wow, you really thought of everything!”  
  
“Please stop snooping through my stuff.” Jihoon groans tiredly, standing on his tiptoes to reach and slap Soonyoung’s outstretched hand with his palm. He grabs the candle and immediately pulls it against his chest in what he’d later begrudgingly admit was somewhat of a defensive impulse.  
  
“You are quite the romantic type, aren’t ya’?” Soonyoung whistles,  then chuckles, causing Jihoon’s face to flush visibly and resemble the hot pink shade of the shopping bag, now lying just a short distance away from them on the ground.

“Figured I have to do something about this place since it seems to be reeking of guy sweat these past few weeks,” Jihoon more or less mumbles out an excuse, and Soonyoung’s face brightens up considerably (if it’s even possible, considering how unbelievably bright it already is).  
  
“You’re such a good hyung, Jihoonie. I think it’s all so very sweet of you! I mean, cheesecake-scented candles? I didn’t even know that existed up until two minutes ago!” Soonyoung exclaims and removes his cap from his sweat-drenched hair – undoubtedly from continuous hours of dancing.

The words of praise make uneasy butterflies bloom inside Jihoon’s stomach and he, by way of habit, begins blinking repeatedly to mask his growing sense of embarrassment.

“Soonyoung, don’t you have better things to do?” he opts to ask once the fluttery sensation in his gut doesn't seem like it would falter anytime soon. “Have you even started thinking about your present at all?”  
  
Soonyoung sighs deeply and moves around the room to find support for his arms in the form of the back of Jihoon’s big swivel chair.

“You know me, I never know what’s the right thing to get for other people,” he starts, searching under his fingernails for any sign of dirt that might’ve stuck there and examining his hands from every possible angle. “Also, I think this person in particular would be extra difficult to please. I have a lot of ideas swimming around in my head, but not a single one seems to stick out as being good or special enough,” Soonyoung finishes with another heavy sigh, not bothering to elaborate on who this picky individual might be. He is, after all,  very serious about games and would be caught dead before ever telling anyone which member he’s the Secret Santa of.  
  
Sudden silence seeps its way into the recording room once Soonyoung ceases speaking, lulling the two overworked boys into a stage of peaceful and familiar comfortness. After some time in which only the soft noises of the air conditioning system can be heard, Soonyoung turns to look at Jihoon with an odd gleam in his eyes.

“What would you like for Christmas, Jihoonie?” he laughs out, smirk taking over his features.

“Some peace and quiet, hopefully,” Jihoon says with a thin smile of his own, and makes a move to pull the hoodie of his oversized sweatshirt over his face; until it almost reaches the top of his cheekbones.  
  
“That’s some ambitious wish you got there, buddy!”  
  
By this point, Jihoon is already on the verge of hysterical cackling. “Can’t you go bother Chan or something?” he asks hopefully, giggles dangerously bubbling up in his throat.

“The maknae?” Soonyoung shoots Jihoon an incredibly incredulous look, the kind of which you’d give someone who had just come running past you on the street with underwear on their head. “He’s sleeping, though.”  
  
“Oh, right.” Jihoon rubs a hand down his steadily paling face. “I forgot only absolute lunatics are willing to stay up this late.”

The next thing he does in order to emphasize his words, is to march toward Soonyoung with large skips and flail his arms madly about,  the wild motions causing the extra fabric that collects around his hands to flap at his sides like wings of a newborn chick that’s just beginning to learn the basics of flying.

Most people would already be out the door after such a theatrical exhibition, but not Soonyoung. Instead of looking horrified by Jihoon’s actions – as he probably should be – he lifts his chin up importantly and snaps his fingers in sudden enlightenment.  
  
“Oh, I just got the best idea! Check this out: what say you about incorporating the same thing you just did into a dance? Our outfits would have to have really long sleeves and then we can like, make all these sprinkler-like movements with our arms like we did in Chuck, but with more of a ‘swoosh’ feeling rather than a ‘bang’!” Soonyoung rambles excitedly and motions widely to better explain Jihoon the exact picture he has in mind, body moving in ways bodies should never move at four o'clock in the morning.

Jihoon stops in his tracks, only able to blink at Soonyoung bewilderingly. Eventually he narrows his eyes in disbelief and says: “You're really dumb, you know that?”  
  
“I don’t think you fully understand the great potential of this move, Jihoonie. This is some ground-breaking stuff we’re talking about here!”  
  
“Whatever.” Jihoon shrugs dismissively, watching with prickling sense of irritation as Soonyoung starts pacing frantically from one corner of the room to the other, arms crossed behind his back in a very business-like manner.

“I gotta talk with the choreographer about what costumes we’re gonna have for our next comeback!” Soonyoung chimes and wags his pointer finger at Jihoon’s face with excitement.

“You go do that,” the latter encourages.

“I will!” Soonyoung shouts back determinedly and slaps the underside of his clenched fist against his open palm.  
  
“Well…” Jihoon says tiredly after two minutes or so of Soonyoung boring holes into his head with sheer power of motivation. “Goodnight then, Soonyoung.”  
  
“G’night, buddy.” Soonyoung laughs one last time, before practically galloping his way to the studio door and pushing it open with one of his shoulders. “Don’t stay up for too long, you hear?” He points a chastising finger at Jihoon’s general direction. Jihoon lets himself release a short snort in retaliation.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, ‘buddy’.”  
  
Soonyoung waves the back of his hand in goodbye as he turns away from Jihoon and finally steps outside the recording room.

“Wait, Soonyoung! You forgot you–” the door closes with an audible thud, “–r hat. You forgot your hat…”  
  
Jihoon huffs in defeat and moves to pick up the deserted accessory from where Soonyoung had left it on top of the producer chair. He then sits himself down on said chair, swiftly leaning forward and making himself roll across the floor until he reaches a small closet at the back of the room. He sighs to himself despairingly when he opens it and gets a better look at the stuff planted inside.

Now there are already three additional items sorted neatly inside the plastic boxes he keeps there; other than the ever-present tangle of power cables, random piles of lyric notebooks and small collection of empty beer cans.  
  
Jihoon presses his lips into a harsh line as he carefully places Soonyoung’s hat inside the closet, right beside Mingyu’s expensive high-end earphones (which he has been madly searching for these past few days) and Seungcheol’s charger (which he had stolen from some extremely miserable soul at some point and has never considered returning back ever since).  
  
“I’m surrounded by idiots…”

Jihoon can’t help but smile.

 

 


	2. Baby, All I Want for Christmas is You

 

 

It is around 8:30 PM, just a little over twenty minutes since the beginning of their annual Christmas party, and Seungkwan is grumpy – has been grumpy for the past few days.  
  
The preparations for SEVENTEEN’s _Boom_ _Boom_ comeback and the promotions that followed it have been taking up all of his free time as of late. As such, Seungkwan hasn’t had any chance to simply unwind and relieve the immense stress that's been building up in his lungs due to the band’s constant work – an unfortunate fact which has resulted in him becoming more and more crabby as time went by.  
  
Usually, Seungkwan isn’t one to reach a breaking point. He absolutely adores his job as a singer. He loves dedicating every single fibre of his soul to his group – making every music show performance, every radio programme appearance, every interview or _V_ - _LIVE_ broadcast worth his precious fans' time. Usually, he’d find a way to relax and recharge his energy after a long and hard day full of responsibilities. Most often, by seeking comfort in the close proximity of his fellow worn out members (a.k.a excessive touching on his part).  
  
But since the recording room has been pretty much occupied 24/7 during the entire past month or so, the familiar routine Seungkwan had conveniently come to develop for himself in order to release tension proves to be no longer sufficient.  
  
Seungkwan doesn’t want to admit It, but in the end, it all boils down to one annoying and stupid fact. The fact that his and Vernon's little 'fun times' have recently begun to become shorter and painfully rare – often falling far in between schedule activities. Until eventually, they've stopped happening altogether.

So, needless to say, he’s been feeling fairly frustrated lately.  
  
Not only that, but it’s Christmas Eve and his mom isn’t answering any of his calls. All the other guys have already successfully contacted their families. Even the foreign ones like Junhui, who held a shaky conversation with his parents over _Skype_ just a couple of hours ago (and then immediately rushed to update his _Weibo_ page on the new and exciting developments).

Only Seungkwan couldn’t get through to his home, no matter how many times he frantically smashed his mom’s cell number (which he knows by heart) on his sensitive touch-screen, making sure he was indeed using the correct code area (064) and not the one belonging to Seoul.  
  
Once he reached his fifth call and there was still no answer on the other side, he panically massaged his older sisters, who informed him that there’s been a storm in the area of their old neighborhood and that some power lines have been blown down by the wind; and probably won’t be fixed until after Christmas.  
  
On top of this horrible predicament Seungkwan now has to live with – and as a particularly shitty addition to his already shitty holiday – his Secret Santa, the one that was assigned to him as soon as December started showing its signs, hasn’t given him his present yet.

Seungkwan is seriously starting to think that whoever this asshole might be, he’s completely forgotten about the very important promise all of them made. The promise not to leave the person that they each got empty-handed by the end of the night (like what happened last year, when the only one who actually bothered following the rules was Minghao and the rest ended up going to the corner store in dire search for a-quite-literally-last-minute gift).  
  
So, to summarize: Seungkwan hasn’t been getting any sex for over three weeks straight, he doesn’t know whether his parents are safe or not, or if they’re already long dead by now – and also doesn’t have a way of finding out – _**and**_ , he still doesn’t have any Christmas present to speak of.  
  
In other words: he’s been exceptionally stressed from the moment he woke up this morning, until the moment he stepped foot inside the company room Seungcheol had secured for their party.

Taking everything into consideration then, Seungkwan had no other option but to somehow keep his impending emotional melt-down at bay, as to not ruin everyone else’s festive mood. And so, eventually, he resorted to finding solace in the only thing that could never disappoint him. That thing being, of course, sweets.  
  
To paint somewhat of a clearer picture: Seungkwan is currently tucked quite miserably under the big and overly shiny Christmas tree Seungcheol and Mingyu have set up at the back of the room, surrounded from all sides by piles upon piles of fan gifts and angrily rummaging through an aggravatingly colorful packet of candy canes. Sounds that equate to the ear-grating noise a cat makes when its tail has been stepped on, reverberate throughout the space – undoubtedly coming from the speakers placed on the other side of the room, which has been designated as the ‘karaoke area’.  
  
Seungkwan doesn’t know whose clever idea was it to decide on a carol karaoke night. Probably the same person who’s responsible for the cruel torture his ears have been forced to experience as-of-twenty-minutes-ago. And, obviously, who can that idiotic individual be if not his asshat of a boyfriend, Chwe Hansol Vernon himself.

The same idiotic Chwe Hansol Vernon who hasn’t been paying him any attention, whatsoever, all day long.

Not even a simple hug or a single brush of their hands.

_Nothing_.    
  
It’s Christmas Eve and Hansol much rather strain his voice to oblivion while singing the failed-rock-version of Last Christmas alongside Joshua, than spend even **one** measly second together with him. And quite honestly, it sucks. It sucks major glittery ornament-balls.  
  
Seungwan is feeling especially overworked and neglected tonight. He just wants someone to show him a morsel of affection. Or more accurately: he craves for someone to pay him his full attention and spoil him rotten.  
  
He shoots another heated glare at his boyfriend’s direction, noting with much disdain the atrocious excuse of a sweater he’s wearing.

It’s the ugliest and most putrid thing he has ever laid his eyes on – that he is absolutely sure of. It’s like if someone took a sheep with extremely thick wool, dipped the poor creature in the brightest, most reflective shades of red and green they could get their hands on, and then proceeded to drag it through the tackiest of trinket shops during Christmas season.  
  
In short, Seungkwan has a strong urge to claw his eyeballs out just so he won’t have to look at it anymore. Or alternatively, he’d like to rip it off Hansol body right this instant! And then – maybe – do things to him...  
  
Things like, skin him alive for being the worst romantic partner in the whole of recorded human history!  
  
Yeah. That’s totally what he wants.

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!  
  
...  
  
Seungkwan is horny – has been horny for the past few days. Past few weeks, if he’s being completely honest with himself.  
  
He sucks hard on the irritatingly vibrant candy cane he’s got locked in the death grip of his palm, in his head: cursing himself for being such a hormonal and nonsensical moron. Because surely – surely – the sight of Chwe Hansol Vernon embarrassing himself in front of twelve other people, while dressed in something which Seungkwan strongly believes embodies everything that is wrong in the world, can’t be _this_ hot.  
  
“Seungkwan, wanna do a duet with me?” a question faintly reaches Seungkwan’s ears, and he turns to look at a very smiley Seokmin, who seems to have made his way to his sitting placement by the Christmas tree seemingly from nowhere. “You can choose whichever song you’d like! It’ll be real fun!”  
  
“No thanks, I’d rather not,” comes the disgruntled answer, as Seungkwan pulls his knees closer to his chest, tongue never stopping once from madly swirling around the half-finished candy painting his hand in artificial colors.  
  
As though he can even think about things like that, when all his head’s filled with are vicious plans of how exactly he’s going to carry out the murder of one extremely insensitive, half-American boy (the intention to put them to action on this very same night scoring top priority on his to-do list).  
  
“C’mon, you know being alone is not good for your health.”  
  
Seungkwan detaches his eyes from the infuriating display on the other end of the room, long enough to register Seokmin’s worried expression. “I’m not alone,” he objects, then promptly gestures toward the spot beside him, where a long lounge sofa can be found standing only one-meter-or-so away from the offensively sparkly tree. “Wonwoo is right here!”  
  
The boy in question raises his head from where it’s been deeply buried inside the pristine pages of a brand new book, and gives Seungkwan a thoughtful scan. “I am. Are you, though?”  
  
Seungkwan is far too preoccupied drowning in misery to attempt understanding the implications behind these words. He thinks it’s unbelievably unfair that Wonwoo has already gotten his Christmas present, while he has not.

And it’s not just any present; it’s a first edition book set of one of his favorite novel series, complete with the author's signature and everything! That thing must have taken a lot of time to find and probably cost a fortune to obtain – but Minghao got it for him anyway. He always gives the best gifts..  
  
Wonwoo has everything, while Seungkwan has nothing. No Christmas presents nor Christmas cheer. No parents (he has to face the truth, he’s practically a certified orphan by now!) And if his estimations are anything to go by, he’s probably going to wind up not only fat, but also completely single by the end of the night.  
  
“Stupid idiot…” Seungkwan can’t help but visibly pout around the now-gooey, red-and-white sweet in his mouth. This is definitely starting to become one of the worst Christmases he’s ever had!  
  
“What’s up, kids? Are you gonna join me on this next song or am I going to have to embarrass myself all by my own?” a relaxed, nasally voice interrupts Seungkwan’s depressing train of thought and he finds himself frowning even more at its uninspired owner, who’s smiling at him a tad bit too playfully for his liking as he approaches the gathering.  
  
“Hi, hyung. Chan still hasn’t shown up yet?” Wonwoo asks flatly as he flips through another page of his book, eyes barely moving upwards to catch Jeonghan’s nonchalant shrug.  
  
“Yeah, he’s being awfully persistent this year.” The older releases a not-very-convincing sigh, letting his chin fall cozily against the crook of Seokmin’s right shoulder. “But I’m not too worried about it. Before you guys got here I made sure Seungcheol and Mingyu hid mistletoe every two meters of this place. The entire floor is covered, he can’t escape for too long.” Jeonghan ends his monologue with an impish smile, gaze leisurely traveling over to Seungkwan.  
  
Once the younger’s eyes align with his own, Jeonghan makes sure to pointedly look at the candy cane shoved almost entirely in his mouth and send him a very meaningful wink. He gets a big huff and a snap of the head in return.  
  
How’s Jeonghan even capable of appearing so damn amused, when Seungkwan feels as though he’s just two seconds away from crying?! And what the hell was he even trying to insinuate just now, anyway?!  
  
Seungkwan averts his attention back to Hansol, teeth digging into his candy cane with reinforced fury.    
  
“ _Stupid_ _idiot_.”  
  
“Seungkwan, I really think you should come sing with us. You’ve been doing nothing but eating those things for the past twenty minutes now,” Seokmin points out with an uneasy tone.  
  
“You call that ‘eating’? It’s more along the lines of inhaling. It’s like he’s seeing food for the first time after being starved for fifty years.” Jeonghan snickers and ruffles Seokmin’s hair lazily, clearly enjoying himself.  
  
“He’s got a point, Seungkwan,” Wonwoo adds matter-a-factly. “Nearly choking yourself to death on a piece of candy won’t do your voice any good.”  
  
But Seungkwan doesn’t hear him. Doesn’t hear any of Jeonghan’s oozing smugness, or even a smidgen of Seokmin’s gloomy concern. He can’t hear anything. He is far too busy taking in the ridiculous actions of the stupid idiot he calls his boyfriend.  
  
The latter is currently half-lying on the floor, pretending to strum away complicated notes on an air-guitar, while passionately croaking out the lyrics to _Silent_ _Night_.  
  
 _Only_ _Hansol_ _can_ _get_ _hyped_ _over_ _something_ _so_ _low_ - _spirited_ , Seungkwan thinks to himself, feeling the tired groan that’s beginning to develop at the back of his throat climbing up. Just then, Hansol starts head-banging and his heart decides to do a tiny flip in his chest; so the sound that leaves his mouth comes out more like a swoon, rather than a groan.  
  
Gosh, he’s such a lovable dor– I mean, a _heartless_ _bastard_! Seungkwan wants to pinch his chee– I mean, **slap** his cheeks! Seungkwan wants to _slap_ his cheeks!  
  
Oh, how much he hates him! How much he loathes him! Him and that stupid, cute, handsome, perfect face of his…  
  
The mushy, sweet cane in Seungkwan’s mouth shatters in half. As a result, sugary liquid drips out and lands on his lips, decorating them in a sheer layer of white paste. It feels fucking horrible – It’s uncomfortably sticky, overly sweet and just plain gross. Seungkwan can’t help imagining something else in its stead. Something which is way saltier… slightly bitter too…  
  
Wait, what the hell is he thinking?! He hates bitter things! He needs to go dip his head in a bucket full of ice-cold water! Like, right now!  
  
“Poor Vernon, his chances of having kids in the future are practically nonexistent by now,” Seungkwan is brought back to reality by a relaxed, nasally voice.  
  
“Thanks a lot for the imagery, hyung. Also, I don’t really think that’s going to be much of a problem for him,” a second voice – deep and composed – pushes him to shake the last speck of fantasy-land from his head and focus on the scene at hand.  
  
He can’t believe he was a second away from picturing something so… dirty! And with all of their friends around, too!  
  
Gosh, is it just him or is the room becoming a lot hotter all of a sudden? He needs to find something to fan himself with, ASAP.  
  
“Oh, right. I guess biology is not really my thing. Good thing we have some legitimately intelligent people like you around here,” Jeonghan says to Wonwoo, then rubs Seokmin’s back supportively when he notices that the half-smile he had just a few moments ago has dimmed into a sad, straight line. Seungkwan notices it as well, but doesn’t bother commenting on the off-putting phenomenon.  
  
He knows he’s the cause of Seokmin’s glumness and he does feel bad about making him so upset when really, he should be having fun instead. But can’t that guy comprehend the simple notion that sometimes, even Seungkwan is bound to get fed up with people? That there are days – not many, but still – he just wants to be left alone and mope over his shitty existence in relative fucking peace??  
  
“Really… you should just snap out of it…” Seokmin sighs and tries to pull Seungkwan out of his dejected daze by whining his name one last time. Seungkwan doesn’t respond, and Seokmin’s shoulders drop in defeat (together with Jeonghan’s face).  
  
Just then, when all hope seems to be lost and Seungkwan rejoices in the promise of everyone finally getting off his case and minding their own businesses – just then, Soonyoung makes his appearance known.  
  
“Heyoo guys, ready to crank up the heat with some stellar performances by the one and only vocal prodigy?”  
  
“Soonyoungie-ah,” Jeonghan calls out sluggishly as the so-called vocal prodigy saunters over with a very excited hoot, two fingers positioned around his face in his signature pose. “Any sign of Chan in the bathroom?”  
  
“Nope. Couldn’t find him anywhere else, either. I think he might’ve climbed up to the roof. Though, I can’t see why he’d choose to do something like that. Kissing me isn’t such a horrible idea, is it? Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten all those onion chips.”  
  
“Hi,” Wonwoo acknowledges Soonyoung good-naturedly when – while still speaking – he skips toward the couch and gives him a high-five.  
  
“Yo, Won – my man! How’s it going?”  
  
“I’d like to say everything’s fine, but I don’t think that’d be true for all of us...”

Soonyoung’s eyes immediately focus on Seokmin, looking him up and down.  
  
“What’s up, sweetheart? Why you looking like someone stole your favorite underwear and decided to wear it for a whole week straight?” He opts to lean his elbow on the younger’s unoccupied shoulder, bottom lip jutting out in a blatant display of aegyo. “‘Cause I know I sure didn’t.” He pats Seokmin’s chest in a calming manner, hand lingering on the taut muscles for far more time than considered appropriate behavior.  
  
Seokmin sighs again and nudges his chin in Seungkwan’s direction. “It’s him, he won’t even speak to me a full sentence.”  
  
“Boo Seungkwan is picking on you?!” Soonyoung motions his thumb erratically at Seungkwan’s slouched behind his shoulder, then turns around to give him the dirtiest, darkest look he can muster.  
  
“How dare you do this to my better other half?! How dare you ignore my precious honey-bear like that?! Huh?? What has my ray of sunshine ever done to you?! Do you enjoy hurting my future husband that much, you lawless scum?!”  
  
Seungkwan rolls his eyes at the barrage of accusations, but doesn’t confront Soonyoung. Please, and people say _he’s_ overdramatic!  
  
Soonyoung can go ahead and shout till his vocal cords die out, for all he cares. He’s simply not worth wasting energy on.  
  
“I think he might be ignoring you,” Jeonghan notes with a hint of a smile after a minute of silence, and Wonwoo straight out chuckles.  
  
“Is it because I look different?!” Soonyoung tries his luck one more time, red-gloved hands straightening the pair of deer antlers sitting skewly atop his head. “That’s rather unprogressive of you.”  
  
Seriously, why must he be like this? Seungkwan just wants to scream at him to go away. But, of course, he doesn’t do that. He can’t lose to Kwon Soonyoung! Not now, not ever! Although It’s a pretty difficult task when the older is being so damn resilient in his mission to pester him.  
  
“I’m bored,” Jeonghan announces when neither side seems like it’ll relent anytime soon. “Seokminnie-ah, you coming?”  
  
“I can’t just leave him like that, hyung.”  
  
“Huh? What’s that?” Jeonghan detangles his hands from Seokmin’s shoulders to repeatedly tap at his chest and the front pockets of his pants. “Is that what I think it is?” He reaches inside his jacket to reveal a tiny branch of mistletoe. “It is! C’mere, give your hyung a big kiss.”  
  
Seokmin looks absolutely mortified as Jeonghan situates the mistletoe right above their heads and points at his cheek with silent determination, eyebrows raised expectantly on his forehead.  
  
“What’s that? You don’t want to?”

Jeonghan’s question is answered by a frantic bunch of nodding.

"Then I guess you have to come sing with me."

"Bu–" Seokmjn begins but Soonyoung cuts him off before he can finish his thought.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, sweetcheeks.” He slaps the younger’s shoulder and turns to beam at Seungkwan. “I got this.”  
  
Seokmin doesn’t seem the slightest bit reluctant and somehow – God knows how – deems Soonyoung trustworthy enough to be left to his own devices. And so, he lets himself get dragged away by Jeonghan.  
  
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Soonyoung plummets right beside Seungkwan on the floor and proceeds to poke his cheek. “What got your pretty panties in a twist, Pouty McPout face?”  
  
 _Goddammit_ , _what_ _does_ _that_ _jerk_ _want_?  
  
“Hyun–”  
  
“Hold it right there! I know exactly what you’re gonna say.” Soonyoung shushes Seungkwan with the quick help of his pointer finger. “Right now, you’re probably thinking: ‘Ugh, why did this annoying hyung come up to me all of a sudden? He’s just going to make fun of me again and be an asshole for no apparent reason.’ And that’s where you’ll be totally wrong, princess – I’m not here for anything petty like that.”  
  
Soonyoung drapes his arm around Seungkwan’s shoulders, his other hand stealing a candy cane from the box sitting by their side and wielding it at some distant corner of the room, “You see, the snack table has a pretty good view of your nice little sitting spot right here. So, naturally, I couldn’t help but notice all the brooding you’ve been doing for like, the past five hours. The point is, I think it wouldn’t hurt anyone if you called it a night earlier than planned and went back home.”  
  
Seungkwan stares completely dumbfounded at Soonyoung as he grins and puts the candy inside his mouth, humming a tune that closely resembles SHINee’s _Prism_ , but never quite manages to match the original melody. He shoots Wonwoo a similar look soon after, to make sure they’re both hearing the same things. Wonwoo only shrugs at him dismissively and returns to read his book with a thin smile.  
  
“Think about it. You, all alone. In a completely empty house. There are endless possibilities of things you can do!” Soonyoung chirps out animatedly, drawing Seungkwan’s attention back to him. “Although, I would personally recommend you catch up on some sleep first.”  
  
“But Seungcheolie-hyung said that it’s very important to him that we all stay together at least until ten,” Seungkwan argues, suddenly very unsure of himself.  
  
“That’s all the more reason why you should leave now – when he’s not here to see you making an exit,” Soonyoung exclaims and snaps his fingers. “You know what?” he says not a heartbeat later. “Maybe it’s not that crucial, after all. He’s been in the bathroom for almost fifteen minutes now. I don’t know what Mingyu put in the cookies, but it sure as hell did a number on the old man’s poor digestive system.”  
  
“Did I really have to know that?”  
  
“So, should I call you a cab?” Soonyoung extracts the candy cane from his mouth with an obnoxious slurp, and pulls his phone out of his pants, starting to punch in the passcode.  
  
Seungkwan sighs. What he’s offering isn’t such a bad idea after all...  
  
“I guess…”  
  
“Good, ‘cause I already did like, ten minutes ago.” Soonyoung shuts his phone before he can even get past the lock screen and springs up into standing. “Go get your coat, kid. It should be here any moment.”  
  
Seungkwan follows Soonyoung’s order and grabs his coat from where he’s left it on the couch for Wonwoo to keep an eye on (so much for that). The last thing he sees and hears when they exist the room, is Jihoon’s confused expression as he’s halfway to down another beer and the very first notes of I’m A Flying Butterfly. Then, before he knows it, they’re both out in the chilly December air and Soonyoung shoves a couple of ten thousand bills into his tremulous palms.  
  
“Get yourself something nice, son.”  
  
“Hyung,” Seungkwan breathes out shallowly, his emotions taking the reins of his body and making him more or less jump on top of Soonyoung, draping around him in an appreciative hug. “Thank you.”  
  
“I know, I know. I love you too,” Soonyoung laughs and returns the gesture with an earnest squish. “Oh look! Your carriage has just arrived, Cinderella.” He breaks the embrace and ushers Seungkwan toward the car which has just pulled over five meters awa.  
  
“Go get ‘em, tiger!” Soonyoung fist-pumps the air after pushing Seungkwan in the backseat of the cab and informing the driver of their dorm address. “And you should probably consider taking a shower, too,” he adds with a smirk right before closing the door. “You smell like refined sugar and crippling depression."

 

 


	3. On the First Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me...

 

 

The taxi screeches to a halt in front of the dorm building, and Seungkwan tiredly stumbles outside to the slippery pavement (but not before paying and graciously thanking the driver for his kind service with the utmost best smile he can manage).

“Merry Christmas, Ahjussi!”

“Merry Christmas, Seungkwan-ah. I hope everythings turns out to be okay with your family and that you eventually get your present from that one extremely rude guy.”

As Seungkwan, lifeless and broken, climbs up to the apartment in a snail’s pace, the relative quiet of his environment starts seeping into his consciousness. Suddenly, the idea of a long and warm bath doesn’t seem so far-fetched to him anymore. In fact, it sounds just right. So when he opens the door of the dorm to be met with absolutely no one in sight to potentially disrupt him, he decides to take up Soonyoung’s suggestion, and immediately starts in the direction of the bathroom.

Seungkwan shimmies out of his clothes and lets them fall at his feet in a messy heap, a deep sigh escaping his lips when he limply hops inside the bath and turns the water to the highest temperature.

The warm water hit his skin and travel all the way from his strained shoulders and freezing chest to his curled, rigid toes. He can feel how his previously stiff body gradually relaxes under the constant stream, wet lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks in content and head automatically lolling backwards with a relieved groan.

Steam begins collecting in the air in heavy clouds and at the same time, dangerous thoughts surface in Seungkwan’s head, swirling around like thick mist and covering every corner of his brain in elusive, smokey veils.

Seungkwan’s hands move on their own accord, slowly sliding up from his sides to rub ticklish trails along every inch of his heated skin, careful fingers continuing to massage sensitive parts of his body. Without him even realizing it, his back comes to lean weakly against the cold shower wall, and his breath stutters in his throat, making way to tiny whines.

His little gasps and pleasured sighs get carried throughout the bathroom, and bounce back from the tiles straight to his ears. That’s when Seungkwan catches himself in the middle of moaning a certain name. He instantly retracts his hands from reaching any lower on his pelvis, and pulls them up to form an ‘X’ on his chest. His fingers clutch his biceps tightly, knuckles turning white due to the force he’s using to restrain himself. His bottom lip transforms into a dark rosy shade when he traps it between his teeth to prevent further shameful noises from slipping out.

Even if he feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t touch himself soon, he won’t do it! Never- _ever!_

Seungkwan refuses to come with that stupid face flashing behind his eyelids, and that stupid name still lingering on his lips. He’d die from pent up sexual frustration before that can happen!

Letting that idiot know he has such a great affect on him, he just– He definitely won’t give him that kind of satisfaction! Even if it’s only the Hansol in his head…

Seungkwan pushes all the dirty images of his sweaty, naked boyfriend breathlessly calling out his name out of his head (with much difficulty, mind you, but it’s not like he’ll ever admit to it), and for the duration of his shower, chooses to focus on much less sexy things. Like the text he got from his sister the previous day, about not being able to meet up during Christmas because of an unexpected workload. Which is completely understandable – Seungkwan is pretty busy himself at the moment, after all.

But he can’t say he’s not disappointed. He’s been really looking forward to hanging out with her after such a long time of being away from each other. Maybe even exchange presents, or watch silly Christmas shows and music specials, like they used to do when they were still living in the same house...

Seungkwan shuts the water off, hoping his mind would take it as an example and do the same. He scrapes his droopy body from the damp wall, and climbs out to the rug, not caring when big, moist circles spread everywhere he chooses to place his feet on. The creamy yellow bathrobe that’s always hanging on the bathroom door is quickly thrown over his dripping body, and carelessly tied around the waist – so a considerable part of his right shoulder and chest remain visible.

Seungkwan stands in front of the vanity and grabs the blow-dryer from its place by the mirror, debating with himself whether he should use it, or simply allow himself to plunge onto his bed as-is and thoroughly soak his pillow. Just when he rules in favor of the first option and begins drying his hair (as to not sleep in soggy sheets), a loud crash sounds somewhere outside the bathroom and startles him out of his groggy state. He stills and waits in complete silence, not daring to move even an inch from his frozen position, or even do so much as breathe in the wrong direction

In the next five seconds to follow, multiple thuds and resounding clattering sounds can be heard from inside the apartment, accompanied by a string of pained and muffled protests. Protests, as in, a grumbled mix of curses and groans – very _human-_ like noises, by Seungkwa's semi-paranoid standards.

Someone else is definitely in the dorm. But right now, everyone should be at Pledis having a party. Seungkwan’s the only one who’s left – Soonyoung has also promised him he’ll make sure no one returns home in the next couple of hours to ruin his privacy.

So who the hell is the person currently tearing their house down?!

Seungkwan tightens his grip on the blow-dryer and gulps, trying to come off as intimidating and menacing as possible, as he attempts to raise his voice to scream something at the intruder. He stumbles over his words a couple of times, but eventually shouts out a very panicky: “Who’s there?!”

When he doesn’t get an intelligible response, he flings the bathroom door open with one shaky arm, and holds the blow-dryer in front of his half-naked torso with the other – as a form of defense.

“I’m warning you, I have a lethal weapon right here with me and I won’t hesitate using it!” he blurts out the very first thing that pops into his head.

That’s what they always say in the movies, isn’t it?

But then again, the characters who make this kind of exclamations are usually the ones to die a fast and horrible death.

_Fuck._

Seungkwan can’t die! He’s still very young. He has so much to live for! He hasn’t even started realizing his full potential yet – not even close! Not to mention, it’d be really shitty if he were to officially expire before he could do something about his... sexual needs.

He’d probably just fucking combust from a serious case of blue balls, way before the murderer even gets to him!

“You had better not be stealing things when I come out there, or else I’ll have no other option but to put a bullet through your head!”

Seungkwan is pretty sure the other person is plenty aware of the clear wobbliness in his voice; he’s pretty sure everyone who isn’t one hundred percent deaf would’ve been able to hear how utterly terrified he is.

Quickly, before he can regret ever doing anything that could potentially provoke his evil attacker, Seungkwan sneaks around the corridor toward the source of the ruckus. When he reaches an open area, he plants his feet in the ground as firmly as he can, and begins swinging the blow-dryer to all sides in a full-blown crazed frenzy, his eyes screwed shut in pure mortification all the while.

“I-I’m not afraid of you! I could totally take you down if you showed yourself to me right now! So j-just, come out here and fight me like a man! I m-mean, if you’re actually brave enough to d-do something like that, yo-you–” Seungkwan’s shoulders roll up, teeth chewing the inside of his mouth anxiously as he continues to battle the air with all of his might, “You infested dog!”

Instead of a knife ruthlessly being pierced into his chest, Seungkwan gets an answer to his challenge in the form of a series of hearty chuckles. His arms stop trembling at once, the huge bundle of nerves that sits in his throat vanishing as if it were never even there to begin with. That stupid laughter – Seungkwan knows it too damn well!

He orders his eyes to open and blinks them a couple of times, before zooming in on the figure splayed on the living room floor directly across from him.

“Vernonie?” Seungkwan outstretched arms instantly fall lax at his sides. Suddenly, the fact that his half-dry hair is sticking on top of his head in various directions is very prominent to him. If he were to garner a guess, he’d say that he probably looks pretty fucking ridiculous at the moment.

“Uh,” the chuckling boy begins from underneath a pile of books, “Hey.” His lower body is drowning entirely in a sea of papers. It also appears that he has hit his head on something, because he’s rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm and pulling a rather pained-looking face.

“Oh, my god, are you okay??” Seungkwan gasps, and runs over to Hansol’s side, helping him diminish the number of books trapping his legs down by frantically pushing them away to random placements across the floor.

“Yeah, I- I’m fine,” Hansol says when Seungkwan’s hands examine every inch of his body in search for injuries. “Shit, that thing popped out of nowhere. “ He winces when the older traces his slightly swollen temple with his fingers, glancing at the completely inanimate (and partially empty) bookcase on his left.

“Wait, what are you even doing here?” Seungkwan asks with sudden suspicion, carefully turning Hansol’s right wrist back down when he can’t seem to detect any bruises on his forearm.

“Me?” Hansol points at himself, eyes widening.

Seungkwan furrows his eyebrows and nods once.

“I had to go back because…” Hansol’s pupils dart from one side of the living room to the other. “Because… I wanted to get this!” He takes one of the many books surrounding the two of them in his hand, mouth opened in a contrived smile and eyebrows scrunched up in that strangely cute way they always do when he’s unsure about something.

“ _French Provincial Cooking_?” Seungkwan reads the title aloud, voice heavy with skepticism.

“Yeah… Yeah!” Hansol confirms with a rapid shake of his head. “I suddenly had this really weird craving for some good ol’ French toast!” He releases a short laugh as he talks, waving the book about to emphasize his statement.

“So that’s why…” Hansol’s swift words slow down and his eyes shift away from Seungkwan’s face, going south. “I’m here…” He stares at the exposed expanse of shiny skin that peeks through Seungkwan’s robe, without an ounce of shame. “Were you showering?”

“Do you not see what I’m holding?!” Seungkwan squawks out distressingly. “I was about ready to bust your skull open!” He discards the hair-dryer to the side in exasperation, so he can place his now-empty hand on top of his chest dramatically. “Gosh, I almost had a heart attack just now – I thought you were a burglar!”

“So, you’re glad it’s me?” Hansol concludes with a hum, flashing Seungkwan a lopsided grin.

“If you’re asking me whether I’m glad that it’s you and not a serial killer, then yes! I’m very glad! I was starting to become really scared! I thought I’ll end up like that girl in _Psycho_ _,_ and that you guys would eventually come here to find my cold naked body floating in the bath in a pool of my own blood!”

Seungkwan barely manages to spew the wavery stream of words that floods his mouth. After doing so, his breath quickens significantly and his hands clench into pale, fidgety fists on top of his lap. Shit, he hasn’t realized he was so frightened up until now. He can taste the sharpness of metal on his lower lip – from where his teeth have been continuously digging into his flesh.

“I thought I was going to die! Without even having the proper chance to talk to my parents one last time and say that I love them!”

“Hey, hey,” Hansol whispers calmingly. “There’s no killer. Just me.” He lowers his forehead until it’s almost kissing the crown of Seungkwan’s head, and puts a reassuring hand on the older’s tense shoulder – making him look up at him with a pair of huge glossy eyes. “You’re safe here with me. Your parents are going to call soon and tell you how much they love and miss you and everything’s gonna be alright. You don't have to worry about anything, okay?”

Seungkwan’s body loosens up considerably when Hansol’s gentle fingers brush repetitive shapes all the way down to the small of his back and back to his shoulder blades. He feels goosebumps popping up all over his skin, his pupils dilating in excitement from the pleasant sensation that makes tiny flowers bloom in his lungs and hinder his breathing. Hansol hasn’t touched him like that in a very long time (okay, for only thirty hours or so, but for Seungkwan it’s a lot!) He can’t help but virtually melt at the younger’s touch.

No, no, _no!_

He’s supposed to be mad at him – he can’t give in so easily!

He must show this idiot that Boo Seungkwan isn’t the kind of guy who can be won over by a few sweet words!

But before Seungkwan can teach him a lesson about common decency, Hansol helps him up from the floor by interlocking their handss, and pulling him into standing. Without thinking twice, he leads the way to the kitchen.

"Want some?” Hansol questions nonchalantly when they eventually get to their destination (after a lot of shuffling on Seungkwan’s part), grabbing ahold of a decent-sized and seemingly expensive box of chocolates that’s been lying on the counter.

“They’re really good! You’ll feel better after eating one. Mingyu gave them to me, by the way. Pretty nice of him, right?” Hansol pops a single piece into his mouth, smiling brightly as he offers Seungkwan one of the many elaborately-crafted chocolates, sitting inside a heart-shaped box.

Seungkwan puffs his cheeks indignantly and shakes his head a very decisive ‘No’.

‘Nice’ is most likely the last adjective he would use to describe Mingyu with. ‘Villainous’, he believes, is the most accurate word. ‘Blind’ and ‘tacky’ are pretty dead-on descriptions of him, as well.

Mingyu is far from innocent. He indisputably gave Hansol those chocolates to distract him from the fact that he got him the absolute-fucking-worst Christmas gift ever given to a fellow human being since the birth of Jesus Christ! He isn’t going to say that to Hansol though – and risk shattering his childish illusions of his hyung being more than a literal spawn of Satan.

Seungkwan honestly thought Mingyu has better taste than to buy something so fashionably backwards. But as seen from evidence, he quite obviously doesn’t.

Seriously, what the hell was he thinking when he picked out that sweater?! Did he _want_ Hansol to appear repulsive to everyone within a reasonable distance from him? Because, if so, he is most definitely succeeding!

“God, that thing is even uglier up close.”

Hansol blinks in confusion. Then realization seems to dawn on him, as he follows the direction of Seungkwan’s squinted eyes, to where they’ve been sending daggers toward his torso. “It’s so soft, though!" He exclaims, pulling the shorter’s hand to the front of his chest. “Seungkwan, you have to feel it!”

What.

What in God’s name does that stupid idiot think he’s doing right now?!

Fuck no!

Seungkwan knows exactly what he’s got planned in that sinful, simpleton-head of his!

“I’m not going to touch yo– I’m not going to touch that _thing!_ ” he proclaims heatedly, and rescues his hand from Hansol’s overly warm grasp all-too-quickly.

“What are you really doing here?“ Seungkwan demands with a huff, and crosses his arms rigidly across his midsection – hoping it will help reduce some of the space they’ve been sharing so far.  

It’s uncomfortable, yes (his back is pressed quite harshly against the counter, because it’s the only way he can escape Hansol’s personal bubble – their kitchen is pretty small). But he’s willing to go to great lengths just to make sure there’s a safe gap between the two of them. He’s not playing that stupid idiot’s game anymore.

Anyways, it’s Hansol's own damn fault for getting Seungkwan in such a foul mood in the first place! He has only himself to blame for any future couple discord.

“Your Secret Santa told me to let you know that you can find your present somewhere around the house…”

Seungkwan’s brain short-circuits for about two whole seconds, before he hurriedly yanks Hansol by the collar, his eyes shooting rapid fire, like those of a madman. “Where exactly?”

“Bedroom,” Hansol squeaks right away, pupils struggling to keep track of Seungkwan’s face, seeing as it’s only mere inches away from his.

Maybe Seungkwan is being overdramatic. But frankly, he couldn’t care less if Hansol thinks he’s gone a little haywire. This gift might as well be the only thing that’s capable of salvaging his trainwreck of a Christmas.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Seungkwan sprints toward his bedroom like a cheetah after its prey as soon as he hears Hansol’s reply. The younger boy follows him into the room and stands at its center, watching with full fascination, as Seungkwan turns over every single object he deems big enough to hide something under. He skims over his and Seokmin’s shared bunk-bed, not bothering to check the orange-peel-covered mattress at the bottom, and instead, immediately searching through his own covers, and haphazardly throwing them to the floor once he can’t find anything attention worthy.

“Here it is!” Seungkwan squeals enthusiastically when he reaches his hand under Joshua’s bed to, at last, discover a pretty obscure-looking shopping bag marked by bold and black letters that spell out his name.

There’s no specific logo printed on it, nor a label Seungkwan can immediately recognize – no matter how many times he rotates it in his hands (there _is_ a poorly drawn hamster on one side, which its meaning he quite foolishly fails to realize).

Usually, that kind of thing would’ve rung a few warning bells in Seungkwan’s head. But he’s so far gone by this point, that he doesn’t dwell on this alarming fact for very long. Instead, he opts to empty the contents of the shopping bag on the nearest clean surface. He does so in such a haste, that he barely notices the vibrant pink card that falls alongside the blob of cloth on top of Joshua’s mattress.

Seungkwan takes a good, long and scrutinizing look at the peculiar assortment of items, now that he can fully see it. It’s a mix of red and black velvet-like fabric, white fur and some sheer material.

Although there are several garments piled on the bed, there isn’t a whole lot of... Well, _garment._

The design of it all is really... minimal.

Like, Seungkwan is pretty much inclined to believe that the red thing he’s currently staring at is a – very suggestive – blouse of some sorts.

He picks up the fuchsia-colored card from the fuzzy mess deposited on Joshua’s sheets, and starts reading the message written on it (quickly, before he blows up a fuse).

 

**_To: My dearest dongsaeng, Boo Seungkwan from Jeju._ **

**_First of all, Merry Christmas! :D_ **

**_I’m so proud of what you were able to achieve this year! Seriously, you’ve come such a long way~ The way you dance is becoming more and more fluid each time we perform!_ **

**_Second of all, I hope you're not too mad about only getting your present now XD kekeke_ **

**_I can assure you, a lot of thought went into choosing your gift, so don’t be too elf-Santared and just put it on, will you? ;D_ **

**_Anyway, I hope you like It!_ **

**_I personally couldn’t help but think about you when I saw this. I think It’ll fit you reallll nicely! :3_ **

**_Wear it well, okay? I promise if you do, you’ll have yourself a very jolly white Christmas kekekekeke_ **

**_From: Your most favorite and admirable hyung, who loves and cares about you very, very much ✰ ~_ **

 

Self-praise disguised as compliments, stupid puns, overuse of smileys, random ‘kekeke’s – Seungkwan could pinpoint the person who wrote this even if someone were to wake him up at the dead of night.

Soon enough, the card ceases to resemble its original square-form and becomes a tiny, crumpled paper ball in Seungkwan’s grasp. His entire body shakes with rage, his face flushed an extremely angry beetroot-red.

That son of a bitch – he’s going to kill him!

"Can you believe that guy?! Who the hell does that?? Who gives their _male_ friends slutty Santa costumes on Christmas?!” Seungkwan finds himself screeching behind a shaky palm, as his other hand reluctantly moves to lift the miniscule, festive dress from where it’s situated on the bed – like it’s a chemical bomb ready to explode at any second. “That's not a good practical joke – that's just plain disrespectful! Not to mention weird!”

Seungkwan’s eyes grow twice their size when he suddenly takes notice of another item that has been buried under the costume.

“Oh, my god! Look Hansol, the bastard even bought matching underwear! That's taking it too fucking far – even for him!” He turns to wave a miniature pair of red-and-white-striped panties right in his boyfriend’s face.

Much to Seungkwan’s growing horror and disgust, two fluffy pom-poms bounce wildly in the air when he rapidly motions in Hansol’s direction in an attempt to rouse his sympathy. They are tied ( _very distastefully_ , he might add) to the panties front by a satin green bow, which is decorated in the center with what seems to be a little mistletoe.

There’s also endless frill coming from the edges an– Fucking hell! Seungkwan has never seen something so sickeningly cute! He’s going to puke.

"Yeah... that's really... messed up..." Hansol eventually says through tightly pursed lips, gaze completely fixed on the girly underwear nearly grazing the tip of his nose. Seungkwan swears he can see him sweating.

Why the hell does he look so constipated, though? It’s by no means his usual what-the-fuck face. Instead, he looks… nervous? Ashamed? But why? Unless...

No, it can’t be!

Can it?!

“What's that?!”

“What's what?”

  
“I can't believe you!” Seungkwan points his finger at Hansol accusingly, his left hand shooting up to his face to cover his mouth once again.  
  
“What? I didn't say anything!” Hansol tries to object hysterically, throwing his upturned palms in front of himself in the universal ‘non-guilty’ gesture.

He couldn’t look any more guilty if he tried!  
  
“Your eyes!” Seungkwan takes a fleeting step backwards and his shins bump into the bottom of Joshua’s bed. “You got that dazed look in your eyes. What were you thinking about just now?!"  
  
“Nothing, I swear!” Hansol insists, seemingly not knowing what to do with his arms, so he just leaves them to hang defensively in the air. “Soonyoung-hyung is a horrible, horrible person who doesn't deserve even the smallest bit of your kindness!”

Upon getting praised in a roundabout way, Seungkwan lets his guard down, limbs no longer angled in front of his body like a protective barrier. He eyes Hansol suspiciously for a few seconds before asking: "Are you sure that's all?"  
  
“Yes!” Hansol explodes, hands falling back to his sides. After that, a relatively long silence takes over the room, in which Seungkwan allows Hansol to flop beside him on the bed. At some point (around three peaceful minutes later), the younger boy turns to him with a very somber expression.

“I bet you'd look dead sexy in a miniskirt, though.”

Seungkwan’s cheeks turn seventy different shades of pink. He does the only logical thing he can think of; he forcefully chucks the closest thing to him at his boyfriend. In this case and much to Hansol’s luck: a pillow.  
  
“Oh, my god, Hansol! The only one who's going to be anything remotely ‘dead’ in the very near future is you!”  
  
“What? Why?” Hansol peels the offending cushion from his face, eyes filled with hurt. “Am I not allowed to make suggestions?”  
  
“Make suggestions that concern your own damn self! I'd like to see you put on that frilly pair of underwear!” Seungkwan screams right back at him. “Maybe then we'll sit down for a talk!”

  
“Really?” Hansol asks hopefully. “If I put it on would you be willing to wear that dress?”  
  
“Are you seriously bargaining for this right now?!”  
  
“Men will do dumb things in the name of love.”  
  
“I believe the 'love' you're referring to is more commonly known as being a horny dumbass!”  
  
”’Kay, I'm gonna do it,” Hansol declares and before Seungkwan can hit him with the pillow one more time, he snatches the underwear from its place by his side, and stretches it above his head and then– then it’s already too late, and all is left for Seungkwan to do is stare.

He can’t believe his eyes. No. This guy can’t be real.

He’s dating a fucking lunatic!

“Chwe Hansol Vernon, did you jus– Did you just wear a fucking pair of panties on your head?? Did I just see that happen?!” Seungkwan shrieks into his hands, body falling back onto the mattress due to a sudden spasm attack. “Oh, God, I'm watching a person being slowly driven into madness! It's not even funny anymore!”

“So why are you laughing?”

“'Cause if I weren't laughing I would be crying instead, and I have a certain reputation to uphold,” Seungkwan bites out an excuse, desperately trying to hold in his giggles.  
  
“What reputation? There's just the two of us in here, Seungkwannie. You don't have to pretend to be anything else.”  
  
“Don't you say those things to me with that stupid thing still on your head, Chwe Hansol!” Seungkwan shouts and unmasks his eyes from between his fingers, so he can glare at Hansol. “Would you just take it off already?!”

Hansol shrugs noncommittally, easily lifting his legs onto the bed and crossing them under himself. “Are you going to put on the dress?”  
  
“Hansol!”

The laid-back expression on the younger boy’s face disappears at once – broken by a displeased pout. “You promised! You said that if I did this you would wear the things Hyung bought for you!”  
  
“God damn it, Hansol! I never said that! I said we’ll talk. _Maybe,_ we’ll talk, _”_ Seungkwan shoots back with the same amount of fire. “Can you, for once, not think with your dick, please?!”  
  
"B-but, I mean, you can't just let this kind of amazing opportunity slip right through your fingers!” Hansol fumbles and stutters, hands flying everywhere. ”Christmas comes only once a year, you know? Of course, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's jus– I neve– You alway–” He takes a deep breath before removing the underwear from his hair, and leaning closer to Seungkwan on the mattress, so he can look him straight in the eye. “I **want** this."

So, of course, what an honest and pure boy like Seungkwan to do, if not to throw the object most accessible to him at the person who is asking to taint his fragile innocence. Too bad it’s that damn dress, though. Judging from all of his actions in the last ten minutes, Hansol is probably into that kind of shit.

"I can't believe my boyfriend is such a pervert!"  
  
"I'm the pervert here?” Hansol asks through a mouthful of red fabric. “I was completely fine with just holding hands for the first year of our relationship!" He swats the garment away from his face, some of its color seemingly transferring onto his cheeks.  
  
"As if!” Seungkwan snorts, his arms automatically settling in a knot across his chest. “You slapped my ass in front of hundreds of people! I highly doubt you would've been able to wait for so long!"  
  
"Well, you pushed me into a public restroom less than an hour after that and gave me a handjob while Mingyu-hyung was right outside from us!"

Seungkwan almost falls off of the bed at the sound of these words. He sputters, feeling as though his entire face is going up in flames.

“W-well, y-you liked it!”

“Of course I liked it! It was the first time that kind of thing has ever happened to me!” Hansol retorts, voice slightly cracking at the end of his sentence. “And also, it was you…” His gaze comes to shyly lay on Seungkwan, irises barely visible behind curtains of long lashes. “How could I not like it?”

Seungkwan would be a giant liar if he says that Hansol’s sheepish confession doesn’t make something disgustingly warm and gooey spread around in his chest. Nonetheless, he chooses to turn away from him. Thus not having to look at his face directly and deal with the irritating sensation.

Still, he appreciates Hansol’s decision not to mention the fact that aside from being ‘the first time that kind of thing has ever happened to him,’ it was also Seungkwan’s very first time doing anything remotely sexual with another human being.

Needless to say, he doesn’t have many memories from that time that he can proudly admit to.

Things that jump to mind when he thinks about what happened are, mainly, a lot of awkward scuffling and more than a lifetime-worth of unintentional nose-bumps. Also, some very sloppy and misplaced kisses that, somehow, landed anywhere but their lips.

But what really took the cake then, was when Seungkwan nearly castrated Hansol in his panic-stricken attempt to close his zipper (he was so anxious that someone might get suspicious and discover what they were doing, that he didn’t look down when he was helping the younger pull his pants back up).

Good thing there were some toilet-paper rolls Seungkwan could shove inside Hansol’s mouth to stifle his blood-curdling screams, or else every last Filipino citizen would’ve been made aware of their ‘sexy’ misadventure.

Long story short: they didn’t speak to each other for an entire four hours after that. Then Seungkwan realized they were both being really dumb. So he decided to pay a visit to Hansol’s hotel room so they could bump noses under his bed covers some more. Which they did – along with some other stuff...

Bottom line: how can Hansol genuinely say that he enjoyed Seungkwan’s clumsy fondling is beyond him. But what can he say? His boyfriend is truly too precious for this world.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” aforementioned-precious-boyfriend starts from behind Seungkwan, snapping him out of his bittersweet musings. “I shouldn’t be pressuring you to do stuff you don’t feel comfortable with.” His voice sounds so soft and remorseful. So soft and so remorseful, that Seungkwan’s heart eventually gets the better of him, and he finds himself turning around and side-glancing empathetically at Hansol as he fiddles with the Santa costume on the other side of the bed.

“You don’t have to wear this, or anything else, for that matter.” Hansol crumples the red dress in his hands and shakes his head, eyes cast downwards in what Seungkwan can only perceive as deep regret. “Just you alone is enough to turn me on, really. So yeah… Just forget about everything and let’s move on.” He gets up from the bed abruptly, collects each of the items that were included in Soonyoung’s gift, then spots the shopping bag they came in on the floor and throws everything inside – only stopping his rapid actions to give Seungkwan an apologetic, crooked smile. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

_He doesn’t want to pressure him._

_He wants him to feel comfortable._

_Just Seungkwan alone is enough to turn him on._

_He would rather watch a movie together, than force him to do something sexual he isn’t a fan of._

Gosh, If Hansol isn’t the cutest little shit in the whole of existence. Of course he is. He’s Seungkwan’s adorable and sweet little baby, after all.

His angelic and handsome prince.

His hyperactive ball of fluff that is always right there for him to squish and cuddle.

But more than anything, he is – and always will be – his idiot, overgrown puppy.

Right now, though, Seungkwan notes with a confused frown, the puppy looks really sad. Like he had been brutally stomped on by someone. And–

Oh. My. God.

Seungkwan just kicked a literal puppy. He just went and hurt a completely helpless and innocent being for absolutely no good reason. He is a puppy kicker. A freaking puppy abuser!

He doesn’t want to be one! He doesn’t want the puppy to be sad. He hates seeing him like that! He wants the puppy to go back to being his usual moronic and carefree self. He wants him to feel forever loved and cared for and just– _Stop_ looking at him with those huge, brown eyes!

“Wait…” Seungkwan tugs at the hem of Hansol’s sweater before he can finish carrying the shopping bag toward the trash can at the corner of the room, and get rid of the scanty clothing inside. The younger looks down at him curiously, the sudden intensity of his gaze causing Seungkwan’s pupils to change directions every two seconds behind his lowered eyelashes. His lips follow soon after and jut out embarrassedly, his cheeks puffed out and blushing for the umpteenth time that evening. He has a strong feeling that it wouldn’t be the last time they do so, either. “Do you really think I'd look ‘dead sexy’ in a miniskirt?”

Seungkwan doesn’t look, but he can feel how Hansol’s body tenses up momentarily under his outstretched hand. “Huh-uh,” comes the simple and non-threatening response. Seungkwan dares to lift his head to catch Hansol’s expression, but as soon as he does, he is met with unexpectedly sultry eyes and a severe-looking mouth. “I’m already getting hard at the thought of you in that tiny Santa outfit. The dress hugging every curve of your body, showing your beautiful legs and thighs – fuck, you’d look so fucking sexy, baby. And your pretty ass in those tight, little panties – so fucking hot.”

Seungkwan doesn’t know what gets into him, but he instantly stumbles off of the bed, sights set on the source of his future humiliation, held in Hansol’s stupidly attractive hands. “Fine, I'll do it! God, you're such a child!”

“Wait, really?” Hansol has the fucking audacity to gape at him when he rids him of the shopping bag – the damn hypocrite.

How can he even look surprised after saying such filthy things only a mere second ago?!

“You don’t actually have to do thi–”

“Shut up. I’m doing it. Now sit your ass down and wait patiently like a good little boy, before I start to regret not breaking your face when I still had the chance!”

~

Fifteen minutes later and Seungkwan is back where everything started – in the bathroom. He examines his nearly-naked silhouette in the mirror, chewing down on his bottom lip ardently and pondering over his life choices.

How did he get here, exactly?

Is it because of love?

Is it because they were so busy lately that they haven’t gotten a single private moment to themselves?

Because Seungkwan misses the way Hansol’s cheeks stretch up cheerfully to accommodate an overly dopey smile whenever he tells a joke, or does something equally ridiculous for the sake of comedy. Misses how Hansol’s eyes shine like little dancing stars whenever they happen to lock gazes across a crowded room, and the certainty of knowing that those longing stares are saved only for him.

Because Seungkwan misses all the stolen kisses during practice sessions, the comforting hugs shared between dragged-on photoshoots; the times they stay awake lying next to one another, simply feeling the heat radiating from each other’s tired bodies and the familiar weight of their connected hands on top of the mattress.

Maybe it’s because he’s horny and has been wanting to jump Hansol’s bones since the moment he saw him sprawled half-dead across the living room floor.

Maybe it’s because he feels kind of guilty.

Hansol always does everything he wants to when it comes to sex, and makes no arguments about it. Maybe it’s Seungkwan’s time to let his boyfriend know that he is willing to listen to all of his secret desires – whatever they might be – and try to cater to them in the best way he can.

Maybe knowing there’s something Hansol has been craving so much that it caused him to go so far as to break one of his habits (voice his fantasy out loud), makes Seungkwan really excited for some reason. Maybe the thought of his boyfriend being extremely turned on by the concept of him in a dress, makes Seungkwan really turned on by the concept of him in a dress, too. Maybe, even, the idea of wearing women’s clothing appeals to him way more than he is ready to show on the outside...

Seungkwan takes another assessing look at his reflection and immediately regrets his decision.

He looks like a fucking escort! A really quality dressed exclusive-type-of-escort – but still!

The dress is far too damn tight and far too damn short! Seungkwan’s hands pull incessantly at the hem to try and keep the fake white fur trim that’s poofing out from his hips below crotch-level. But at the same time, he can’t pull it _too_ much because he’s afraid if he does, the entire top half of his ass would be showing.

Whoever designed this costume really didn’t hold back on the slutty aspect. Nor did he leave any room for doubt that it is indeed, a Christmas-themed attire.

First of all, it’s a bright red strapless dress with a an extra deep sweetheart neckline that tapers into a thin slit at Seungkwan’s ribcage, almost reaching his belly button. It has an open back which ends just above the swell of his ass (any lower than that and his crack would’ve been on full display) and a wide belt of fur circling its edge, brushing against his upper – _upper_ – thighs.

Has he mentioned that it’s tight? Because it is **tight**.

At least that feature helps hold everything in place. Oh, that and the huge-ass crimson bow that ties at his back, making him look like a really gimmicky bachelor party act. The kind wherein the stripper comes out of a giant present box to give the host a lap-dance.

He might as well be completely naked.

But Seungkwan digresses, at least he got other things to cover up with. Like black, velvety gloves that stretch up to his armpits – showing just the right amount of skin and giving emphasis to his bare shoulders – and sheer black thigh-high stockings which compress his legs and highlight their shape.

Never mind. Those items don’t help at all. In fact, they make everything ten times worse.

Although the worst part of his outfit has got to be that... That damn _collar._ The extremely soft white fur collar with the cute black ribbon at its center, which he can’t help but blush furiously when looking at. Somehow, it makes all the difference – gives him that extra submissive aura.

Rather than an escort, Seungkwan would now say he looks like a Playboy Bunny. He’s just missing the ears, the cuffs and some five-inches red stilettos to tie it all together.

“Not again…”  Seungkwan grumbles exasperatedly under his breath, as he adjusts his stockings to make sure they won’t slip further down his thighs. Do women have to deal with this kind of thing every day? Either way, he feels really sorry for those who do.

He should probably hurry things up – Hansol has been waiting for him for almost twenty-five minutes now.

 _Good. Let him shrivel up and die,_ Seungkwan thinks to himself and nods at his reflection decidedly. Though, he doesn’t really want that. He’s still very much horny and needs his boyfriend to help him get rid of his sexual frustration.

Fuck, he should probably go to him already…

Seungkwan exits the bathroom, and pads across the hallway toward the bedroom, legs sticking together as to avoid his dress bunching up at his hips. His hand hovers above the door handle for a fleeting moment, teeth back to abusing his bottom lip apprehensively.

And what if Hansol doesn’t like it? What if he thinks Seungkwan looks silly and not at all sexy and alluring like he had hoped? What if he makes fun of him for looking utterly absurd, and then changes his mind about dating him?

What if Hansol decides that they can’t continue being a couple because Seungkwan doesn’t have the right body, or a seductive enough demeanor to pull off a mini dress?!

Wait, why is he worried about this, again? Hansol is probably the least picky individual in the whole of South Korea – if not the entire continent of Asia. He’d probably still want to fuck him even if he were wearing an old potato sack and a pair of crocs.

Seungkwan lets his palm weigh the bedroom handle down, a nervous rush of air leaving his mouth as he pushes the door open little by little.

“I’m coming out now, you had better not laugh!” Seungkwan announces when he steps inside the room. He catches a glimpse of Hansol lying broadly across Joshua’s bed, absently messing with a pillow which is placed on top of his ribcage and munching on the fancy chocolates Mingyu previously gave to him at the party ( _poor thing, he must’ve gotten hungry while waiting_ ).

Hansol snaps his torso upwards as soon as Seungkwan alerts him to his presence, the box of chocolates completely forgotten on the mess of covers that the speedy motions of his limbs create behind him. The pillow he has been clasping onto just a minute ago falls to the floor with an audible thud. His jaw falls even quicker, mouth virtually unhinging itself, opening wide enough for an elongated ‘wow’ to slip out.

Seungkwan frowns, and folds his arms with a jaded huff. He doesn’t have to look **that** shocked!

“What are you staring at so much?” he quietly mutters through his puckered lips.

The answer comes fifteen full seconds later.

“You.”

A fond snort escapes Seungkwan as his arms lace themselves around his waist harshly, cheeks now illuminated with a healthy pink glow. “Close your mouth, you're drooling all over the sheets.”

  
“Seungkwannie.”

The skittish boy raises his eyes from where they've been adamantly planted at his feet. He isn’t at all ready for the image that greets him. Hansol is beaming, nose and cheeks crinkling in that strangely cute way they always do when he is happy about something. His right hand taps his lap invitingly, and Seungkwan’s body moves on its own.

Silently, the shorter boy skids in the direction of the bed, and turns around to claim the very edge of Hansol’s thigh as his seat, heart hammering madly in his throat at the steady sound of his boyfriend’s breath behind him (by comparison, It’s almost embarrassing, how Seungkwan can already feel the oxygen leaving his lungs in rickety wafts). Hansol immediately latches onto Seungkwan’s hips and positions him between his legs. So now the older’s bare back is snugly pressed against his sweater-clad front. And _fuck._ Hansol wasn’t lying – It really **is** soft.

“I think Hyung might’ve got you a size smaller than what you actually need,” Hansol whispers huskily near Seungkwan’s ear. “Maybe even two…” His fingers quickly find their way onto caramel thighs, mapping the exposed skin with countless eager touches. “Or three...” The stealthy digits reach Seungkwan’s stockings and begin to toy with them digging under the nylon to get more access to his legs, then retreating shortly after to make the elastic bands snap against supple, round skin and leave pretty light pink marks where they land.

“I don’t see you complaining…” Seungkwan laughs shakily when Hansol closes the distance between them even further, by lurching forward and burying his face in his neck. He can definitely feel something hot and firm rubbing on his ass now, if – by some odd, miraculous chance – he hasn’t been able to feel it earlier.  
  
“My beautiful little princess.” Hansol wraps his arms tightly around Seungkwan’s waist, muffled voice delivering multiple tickly currents, which crash onto the sensitive area right between the older’s neck and shoulder. “My stubborn little ice princess.” He takes a big whiff of the spot, his thin lips engraving a huge, satisfied grin upon Seungkwan’s skin. “You smell so good...”

Hansol has a very weird fixation with Seungkwan’s scent. He really likes sniffing him for whatever reason, and not just on set occasions – like after taking a shower. It’s something he does all the time when they’re alone. Even when Seungkwan is entirely drenched in sweat after practice and keeps on trying to push him away because he _shouldn't_ be doing that when he’s all sticky and disgusting (and probably smells like the early stages of death).

In that sense, Hansol is just like a dog – or an infant. Either way, he’s remarkably gross. And cute.

“Hey, Seungkwan,” Hansol murmurs against the lowest part of his boyfriend’s shoulder, placing a couple of pecks right where his whispery words hit. Seungkwan hums faintly as a reply, body seemingly dissolving into a puddle on top of Hansol’s lap. His serene state only lasts for about two seconds, though, because Hansol decides to completely ruin it with his wise mouth.

 _“Don't take this the wrong way but_ _–_ _”_ At the mere start of this sentence, Seungkwan releases a panicked gasp, torso twisting around as much as it can in Hansol’s firm grasp. “Don’t you dare sta–”  
  
_"I can't see anything but you. You're so ice ice baby_ _–_ _"_  
  
“Stop!” Seungkwan glares at Hansol’s overly chirpy face while he struggles in his lap, trying to get better aim and hit him.

 _“At the same time, you melt me down. Just can't get enough_ _–_ _”_

“You’re such an embarrassment!”

Once Seungkwan sees that Hansol isn’t planning on shutting up anytime soon, he attempts to pry off the clingy arms which are holding his waist down, so he can get up and run as far as he can. But to no avail. Hansol pulls him straight back into his lap, this time making him face the other direction and straddle his hips, their foreheads now touching.

 _“I want to show you myself without hiding anything.”_ Hansol’s eyes stare at Seungkwan’s with such an unwavering level of concentration and overflowing amount of love, that the latter instantly goes back to melting like chocolate. His palms sneak up Hansol’s chest to hold his shoulders, head automatically tilting to the side in search for a familiar pair of lips.

  
_“Ohhhh, we chose each other and focus by a nano unit! When I see you I can't brea_ _–_ _”_  
  
“I'm going to slap you!” Seungkwan shouts frustratingly and hides his face in Hansol’s right shoulder, mouth ending up on the bulging vein on the side of the younger’s neck. It’s one of Seungkwan’s favorite places to tease. He loves finding and tracing all the pronounced veins on Hansol’s body with his fingers and tongue. He has a lot of them all over. Like his neck, forearms and thighs, for example. Other places too...

“You gonna slap me? That’s real kinky.”  
  
“I hate you,” Seungkwan chuckles in Hansol’s ear, teeth lightly nibbling on his earlobe. God, how much he missed this idiot. Thirty hours is way too long a time. He needs his regular dose of a puppy-eyed dweeb to get him through the day, or else, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  
  
“Seungkwan,” Hansol rasps when Seungkwan begins sucking small hickeys onto his jaw and neck, tongue coming out to draw the outlines of the one vein he likes so much. “Hmm?” The older doesn’t stop to listen. Instead, his hands join the excited actions of his mouth and slide up and down Hansol’s chest and arms. Although he can barely feel anything with that damn sweater still on! It’s covering up every inch of Hansol’s skin in tons of unnecessary layers.

If Seungkwan’s brain were functioning normally, he would’ve probably been able to recall the basic fact about sweaters being removable articles. But it doesn’t. So he curses Mingyu’s birth, and wishes death upon the person who came up with the social construct of wearing clothes.

“We'll have to make it so you can never wear this horrid thing ever again,” Seungkwan determines around Hansol’s Adam’s apple, every word emphasized by a swish of his tongue.

“I actually like this sweater,” the taller boy admits a bit breathlessly. “S'comfy.”

At this statement, Seungkwan detaches his mouth from his boyfriend’s body, palms naturally coming up to cup his cheeks so he can look at him properly. “I'll give you a better present,” he assures and kisses the tip of Hansol’s nose. “What do you want me to do for you, pretty boy?”

Hansol doesn’t even consider his options before opening his mouth to reply. “Can you suck my dick like you did to that candy cane earlier?” he asks bluntly.

“You actually noticed that? I thought you were too busy obliterating Mariah Carey songs to pay me any attention,” Seungkwan points out, a bit taken aback. Hansol smiles coyly at him and takes one of his hands – the one caressing his right cheek–gently in his own. “Yeah, well… I always look at you.”

 _Gosh._ His heart. Seungkwan is going to make him come so hard, he’ll be seeing nothing but stars for the next couple of weeks.

Hansol lets go of Seungkwan’s waist with a thwarted whine when the older props himself up from his lap. Still, he willingly spreads his legs apart and leans back on the mattress when Seungkwan gets on his knees before him and begins unbuttoning his jeans. For the first few moments, he struggles to get the zipper down. But eventually, Hansol’s pants successfully sink to his ankles, and he helps him step out of them.

Now, Seungkwan can only imagine how obscene he must look in this position – sitting back on his haunches in a slutty dress that keeps climbing up his half-naked thighs and nearly revealing a tiny pair of panties, looking up with hungry eyes at his boyfriend, and watering at the sight of the obvious bulge that’s encased in his boxers, almost criminally so.

All of his inhibitions fly out the window when he gets on his hands and knees and begins crawling kittenishly toward Hansol, the ribbon on his collar dangling from side to side as he settles between the younger’s legs and softly kisses up the insides of his thighs.

One thing Seungkwan knows for certain is that his ass is completely visible now, the bottom part of his costume having collected around his waist. Though Hansol doesn’t seem to mind that little detail, judging from the way he groans out a particularly juicy curse in English.

The sudden gruffness of his voice motivates Seungkwan to move faster, and he yanks the younger’s underwear off of his body once and for all.

Hansol’s cock finally springs free from its confines, and Seungkwan swears he has never been so thrilled to look at someone else’s body part before.

They don’t usually do this – Seungkwan doesn’t give Hansol blowjobs on a regular basis, although he would definitely like to do so more often. It’s just that Hansol always declines his offers on the grounds that he shouldn’t exert his throat too much (him being a singer and all). Though, tonight Hansol must’ve read Seungkwan’s mind again, because all he has been able to think about the entire time, is how he’s going to get dick in his mouth.

Sometimes, Hansol’s child-like straightforwardness proves to be very useful. Like when he vocally expresses something which Seungkwan’s pride prevents him from otherwise saying.

“Does that feel weird? Should I take them off?” Seungkwan asks inches away from Hansol’s cock, one of his gloved hands wrapping itself around the thick base, and jerking up experimentally.

“No, it’s fine… It feels good.”

Seungkwan hums in understanding and circles the head with his thumb, giving special attention to the slit with direct, downwards brushes. Hansol’s breathing turns heavier and Seungkwan decides that he can’t wait any longer. He brings the flat of his tongue to the taller’s cock, and licks it all the way up to the tip with a long, eager moan, one arm stretched beneath him, touching the floorboards to balance himself (pushing his chest forward and accentuating the deep cleavage of his dress, nearly revealing a dark nipple).

Seungkwan gathers as much saliva as he can in his mouth, and continues to swipe his tongue along Hansol’s length, starting from the base and swiftly moving up to flick the sensitive underside of the head teasingly. His thumb presses on the slit each time he finishes covering a fresh new patch of cock in spit, spreading the beads of pre-cum that accumulate around the fat mushroom tip.

Seungkwan glances up at Hansol through his lashes, as his mouth finds the ridgy vein on his cock and delivers wet kisses all the way from where it starts at the very bottom of his shaft, until the prominent spot where it ends near his head, tonguing the serpentine outlines and sucking the entire area around it.

“Oppa is so big,” Seungkwan mutters airly when his restless lips meet the bulbous tip of Hansol’s dick for the first time, opening to take it between them and suckle a bit hesitantly. His careful approach quickly changes to something more intense when Hansol releases a deep moan, eyebrows furrowed and eyes considerably darker than what they’ve been just a moment before.

“W-what did you just say?”

“Oppa,” Seungkwan moans the title around the twitching cock stretching his lips, mouth slobbering all over the pulsating shaft and his own chin. His hooded eyes shift upwards to catch Hansol’s blown-out pupils, making sure to maintain direct eye contact while he takes the head deeper and rubs it against the inner side of his cheek.

“Oppwa,” he whines the word again and again, losing coherency in favor of more of Hansol’s cock, more of the dusky tint that colors his cheeks in such a pretty pink hue, more of the shaky exhales that leave his chest heaving – like some sort of magnificent sonata created by the greatest of composers.

He sucks harder, with more urgency, searching in his gaze for silky onyx hair that falls in front of Hansol’s face in wavy strands, making him look downright ethereal. Like angels in cathedral paintings. _Masterpiece._

Seungkwan loves seeing how hot and bothered he can make Hansol when he calls him names other than his own, loves seeing him squirm and moan, and lose himself to desire. He looks so cute when he gets all flustered as a result and starts blushing – trying to mentally adjust to the assertive role he’s been put into.

Seungkwan simply can’t help himself, he tightens his grip on Hansol and flicks his wrist repeatedly upwards, humming lewd praises for his oppa’s fat and long cock as he sucks vulgarly on the tip, relishing in the guttural string of ‘ah-ah’s’ which follows soon after.

The pleasured sounds make Seungkwan’s own crotch throb excitedly, and his lips glide down Hansol’s cock with newfound determination, enveloping one inch at a time in hot, tight suction. His tongue swirls slowly but generously around the girth when he takes short stops to relax his throat – not wanting to deprive his boyfriend of the feeling of being pampered for even a millisecond.

 _It’s just like eating a candy cane,_ Seungkwan concludes to himself, and moans at the thought between each of his lavish licks. _Just way bigger and saltier._ Though in a way, it’s a lot sweeter than any candy out there. It’s Hansol’s own personal taste, and that alone makes it the most delicious thing Seungkwan has ever had the chance of sampling (and he has quite the reputation of tasting stuff).

“You know, you can actually put your mouth to pretty good use on the rare times you don’t talk,” Hansol manages to say just barely, tongue nearly peeking out of his mouth as he pants like a dog in heat.

The backhanded compliment makes Seungkwan scowl and hiss like an angered cat. He uses his teeth to graze Hansol’s length, hand darting to grab his balls and squeeze once in warning. Hansol sucks in a sharp breath and regards his boyfriend with a domineering, dangerous look, fingers lacing themselves in fluffy golden locks – holding Seungkwan’s head in place but never really pulling.

“You're such a good little slut. It’s like you were meant for sucking cock,” he comments lowly, teeth bared in a sly smirk. “You look so gorgeous on your hands and knees, ass in the air and my dick down your throat. I should take a picture so you could see how needy you are.”

Seungkwan could just bite his dick off and leave him for dead if he really wanted to (they both know who’s actually in charge here), but he doesn’t.

Seeing how a sweet and simple-minded guy like Hansol can turn passionate and lustful in the blink of an eye, makes Seungkwan seriously question his sense of morality sometimes. He can’t deny it, the contrast does something to him. Maybe because he knows that Hansol only acts like that when he’s with him. It makes him feel special, boosts his ego that much more.

At the same time, Seungkwan wants to lament the loss of his precious baby’s innocence. He always knew the day Hansol’s hormones start to kick in in full force will inevitably come. He just never expected that he would be the one to trigger that change.

“Buying this costume was the best decision I’ve ever made. You’re so fucking hot like this, babe. Just like my cute little princess should be.”

 ** _I_** have ever made…?

Seungkwan feels a second hand grasping at his collar, playing with the baby hairs growing on the back of his neck and massaging his skin lovingly. He purrs in content, sending pleasant vibrations throughout the searing rod engulfed in his mouth.

“A-ah, fuck… It feels really good when you moan around my cock like that.”

Seungkwan moans with every last bit of energy he possesses in his body, and makes an extra effort to take in more of Hansol’s cock, both hands holding onto the younger’s thighs for leverage.

He wants more. More delectable noises. More pleasured expressions. More filthy words. More praises.

More.

Seungkwan’s lust-clouded brain drives him to drop down on Hansol’s cock _fast_. The only thing that runs through his mind when he forces the remaining of Hansol’s shaft inside his throat is that he wants him whole, wants him to scream and writhe in pure bliss, wants him to forget everything but the feeling of his mouth and the sound of his name being shouted out.

It only dawns on Seungkwan that he bit off more than he can chew, when his throat constricts in the middle and he starts choking, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Hansol immediately tugs his head back by the collar.

“Are you okay?!” He gasps loudly. “You don’t have to force yourself to take it all in, you can get hurt! Fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have made you do this. We should just stop.”

Seungkwan’s red swollen lips create an audible pop when they separate from the younger’s cock, long strings of saliva still connecting the throbbing head to his tongue. “N-no! I don’t want to stop,” he objects panically and nuzzles into Hansol’s groin. “Let me make you come! Please, Hansolie. I feel fine.” He licks a wet stripe up the twitching dick smearing pre-cum on his cheek, watery eyes desperately begging for permission. “I promise I won’t try doing it again. I really won’t! Please, I want to make you feel good.”

Hansol looks contemplative for a moment, but ultimately gives in. “Y-yeah, okay,” he says almost meekly, fingers brushing unruly hair strands from Seungkwan’s eyes. “Be careful, though. Please.”

“Oppa spoils me so much, I don’t deserve him.”

“Urgh, d-don’t say that…”

Seungkwan starts slower this time. He jerks Hansol off with one hand leisurely, while the other keeps stroking his inner thigh, every now and again, shaping out the thick and delectable veins which he absolutely adores with his long fingertips. He does so until the worried expression on the younger’s face disappears, and gives way solely for enjoyment.

Once Seungkwan sees he’s relaxed, he wraps his mouth around Hansol’s cock tightly and begins bobbing his head up and down, making sure to focus only on a select few inches and let his hand cover the rest. His gloves are sticky with pre-cum and saliva, his mouth a bit sore due to his previous deepthroat attempt. But not before long, and Seungkwan is back on track. He develops a quick pace, lips meeting his clenched fist every other two seconds. His motions produce audible squelching sounds which fuel his ever-growing sexual hunger. His fingers itch to reach between his legs and touch his own aching cock – especially with Hansol moaning and grunting above him like an A-class porn star.

Without him even realizing it, Seungkwan’s hips start swaying in circles, his ass sticking up a little more each time he pumps Hansol’s dick and simultaneously hollows out his cheeks.

“Babe, huh, S-seungkwan…” Hansol folds his torso in half and clutches a handful of yellow hair, hazy eyes glued to the hard-working boy moving fervently between his legs.

“Oppwa fwees good?

“So good, so good… Shit, fuck! Do t-that thing with your tongue again!”

Seungkwan complies submissively and flicks his tongue just like how he has been requested to. His left hand fondles Hansol’s balls lightly – this time aiming for pleasure rather than pain. Apparently, that’s all it takes to bring the other over the edge.

“Seungkwan!” Hansol pulls the older’s hair and brings himself deeper inside his throat.

Seungkwan’s eyes turn as big as dinner plates when a thick stream of cum floods his mouth. He gulps down half of the bitter fluid out of instinct. The other half ends up drizzling from the sides of his puffy lips when he draws back from Hansol’s cock. His chest is slick with white liquid and so is the front of his bright red dress – which now has splashes of cum across it.

Hansol never comes inside his mouth. Not at least without warning. It usually takes a little longer for him to reach orgasm, too. But to be fair, they haven’t done this sort of thing in a very long while and he’s still a teenage boy after all.

Also, kudos to him for being able to hold back on masturbating for so long. Because judging from how much he just came, one can only assume he hasn’t jacked off for a whole year.

 _Gosh, it’s everywhere._ Seungkwan glances down at his soiled dress and then up at Hansol, one eye closed due to sprinkles of cum that sprayed on his face when he recoiled after it spurted unexpectedly inside him.

“You're mean! Hansolie-oppa is so mean!”  
  
“S-sorry.” Hansol offers compensation by accepting the pouty boy into his lap once again, and cleaning cum spots from cheeks and chin (even eyelashes) with one of his sleeves. “You look pretty like this.”

“It’s bitter,” Seungkwan whines and sticks out his tongue.

Hansol appears to be pensive, as he continues to wipe white streaks from the older’s chest with his sweater. Then a light bulb seems to go off in his head. He reaches behind him and grabs something from between the covers.

“Say ah.” A thumb prods the pillowy flesh of Seungkwan’s cum-stained lips, asking for entrance. Seungkwan obliges, the digit pressing down on his tongue, forcing his mouth wide open.

“So pretty,” Hansol whispers wistfully, before placing a piece of chocolate in his own mouth and leaning forward. And _oh, God_. It’s as if heaven manifested itself into a single sensation. It’s overwhelmingly sweet and rich. Smooth, creamy, with hints of mint.

Then there’s Hansol’s probing tongue, swirling with his own, brushing studiously against every nook and cranny of his mouth, then nudging almost violently – seizing all of Seungkwan’s senses at once.

One of Hansol’s hands is supporting the back of his head, lightly pushing him back into the kiss every time their lips smack when they angle their heads differently. The other one is groping and squishing his ass like it’s his last day walking the Earth as a free man.

Seungkwan’s got hands both nestled in Hansol’s soft, god-like hair and on his chest, convulsing spastically into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater. He is vaguely aware of the fact he’s most likely using too much tongue, that the noises he’s making are outright embarrassing and should be toned down, and that his heart beats loud enough for Hansol to hear. But he doesn’t care, he keeps on exploring every inch of Hansol’s mouth with countless shameless moans. His hips grind on Hansol’s naked lap erratically when the latter snakes his arms around his waist and smashes their chests together, causing their dicks to rub against each other.

Seungkwan can feel how his panties are turning more moist with every reciprocal thrust mimicking the violent movements of his loins, how the fabric sticks to his shaft, and how Hansol’s cock begins swelling under his own for the second time.

When the lack of oxygen becomes too much for him to bear, Seungkwan sits back on Hansol’s thighs and lets their labored breaths mix together. He flutters his eyes open, just to be greeted with the sight of Hansol gawking at him like he’s the most important thing in the world. There’s no surprise there, though. He always stares.

“So pretty…”  Hansol licks off chocolate remains from the corner of Seungkwan’s mouth, the shorter sighing heavily and drooping bonelessly in his arms.

“Again,” Seungkwan begs. “Again…”

Hansol picks another chocolate, and angles Seungkwan’s jaw to the side, so he can better slide it inside his mouth.

It’s coffee this time – slightly bitter. But Seungkwan quickly forgets all about the unfavorable taste and lets himself be swept by the feeling of his boyfriend’s claiming touch. His eyes shift frenziedly behind his eyelids when Hansol dives in passionately and proceeds to suck on his tongue. He nips each of his lips playfully, licking soothing spirals onto the blotchy areas after Seungkwan whines and fidgets on top of his lap as a result.

Only when Seungkwan’s hands grab Hansol’s shoulders to steady himself does he realize he’s trembling, mind captured in a state of complete euphoria.

“It’s good, yeah?” Hansol murmurs upon the parting of their lips, hand cupping Seungkwan’s cheek to bring him back from nirvana. Seungkwan nods feebly. If there is ever an ideal way of enjoying high-quality chocolate, he swears it’s this.

“A-again…”  

Soon, all that can be heard in the room is the profane sound of their mouths meeting and separating from each other and the tiny mewls and gasps that fill the gaps in between.

Kissing Hansol is like doing a triathlon. It lasts for long durations of time, you have to keep going no matter what or else you risk crashing or drowning, there’s always unexpected surprises along the way, and the last, most striking similarity: Both leave you completely breathless by the end, but with a huge sense of gratification.

When Seungkwan ducks his head from Hansol’s face after the fourth round of them ‘food sharing’ – thinking he’s about to die from near suffocation – he doesn’t wait for him to bring more chocolate to his mouth. He does it himself.

_Dark chocolate. Citrus undertones._

By this point, bitterness isn’t something Seungkwan’s brain can process anymore. Everything is sweet, good and right. Everything is mind-blowingly amazing.

“Tastes like Jeju tangerines,” Hansol laughs into his mouth when he adjusts himself in such a way that allows him to sit more comfortably.

It's so outrageously dumb and unsexy, so incredibly spontaneous in the worst way possible. It's so perfectly Hansol, that Seungkwan can't help but want to stop everything and just take in the moment; take in Hansol’s stupid, smug grin and pretty, twinkling eyes. But hormones win over ultimately and all he can manage is an irritated, “Shut up, Hansol. Just shut up.”

Seungkwan goes back to ravaging Hansol’s mouth. But after just a few seconds into the renewed kiss, the younger suddenly stops showing the same level of interest as he did before. His tongue and lips gradually slow down. Until eventually, he seals his mouth shut and averts his face to the side, causing Seungkwan’s own lips to collide with his jaw.

 _What? Why?!_ Seungkwan can only think panically, and try not to burst into hysterical weeping right then and there.

Hansol never pulls back from a kiss first. They can go for a full ten-minute-straight make out session and he still won’t be the one to quit before Seungkwan does.

Did he do something wrong? Is he being too aggressive? Too demanding? Too vocal? Maybe it’s because they already finished their fifth chocolate and he wants to eat another one.

_Yeah! that must be it!_

Seungkwan grabs the box of chocolates from the bed in his shaky palms, and puts a piece on his tongue, letting it hang freely from his mouth, as he looks at Hansol in bated anticipation and rocks on his lap beseechingly, aiming to entice a reaction out of him. But he still– He doesn’t–

_He doesn’t do anything!_

Seungkwan wants to shout, but his mouth hangs wide open and no consonants seem to be registered. He swallows the thick whine of Hansol’s name at the back of his throat, hands latching onto every patch of fabric in his field of reach, trying to bring Hansol’s back where he can feel his lips on his own.

The only response he gets is a firm pair of hands on his hips, holding him down.

It’s not enough! He wants a kiss. _Now_.

“What would Santa say?”

“Wha?” Seungkwan gulps down the now-molten chocolate in his mouth. _Santa? What the fuck does Santa have to do with anything?!_

“You keep calling me names and telling me to shut up when I did nothing wrong. What would Santa say if he found out one of his helpers is acting like this, huh?”

 _Is he being fucking serious?!_ Did he seriously just stop everything just so he can make some dumb quip?!

“Santa can go jump off a cliff for all I care! He ain’t the one potentially not getting laid tonight!”

“Is that… a threat?”

“You bet your stupid idiotic puppy face it is! I’m _that_ much closer to dumping your sorry ass if you don’t start kissing me in the next three seconds!”

“Here you go again.” Hansol shakes his head disapprovingly. “You're not supposed to say this sort of things to someone who’s been nothing but good all year long, y’know?”

“If this person is being a fucking asshole who won’t even kiss his damn boyfriend, after he practically guilt tripped him into wearing a dress the size fit for fucking nine-year-olds – not to mention, fucking lingerie! – then, _yes!_ I can call him whatever fucking name I fucking want!”

“You’ve got such a potty mouth, Seungkwan. I can’t believe Santa would actually stand for your kind of behavior. It’s not very nice at all,” Hansol says with a click of his tongue. “In fact,” he intones. “I think you're being really **naughty** right now.”

Fucking. Hell.

Is that where he’s been trying to get at all along?! Was it really worth making Seungkwan so enraged?!

“I hate you!”

“Do you really?”

“Yes! Do I have to tell you in English as well?! _I hate you, Vernon Chwe! I. Hate.You!”_

Then, just like Seungkwan has expected to happen all along, he’s being pulled by the waist in such a way that forces him on his knees, his chest and forearms halfway past Hansol’s shoulder and ass sticking out in the air, the taller’s hand positioned on one full and perky cheek, squeezing scoldingly.

“It really hurts when you say those things, Seungkwan-ah.”

Seungkwan knows that these words are just part of a game – a game that they've played a couple of times in the past already. Nevertheless, his heart still sinks a little to his stomache, hearing Hansol say that he’s hurt him.

He doesn’t get to ponder over this disturbing thought for too long, though. Because Hansol immediately comes up with a distracting follow-up.

“You've been a very naughty boy, Seungkwannie. I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

Seungkwan can already feel his thighs wobbling in anticipation, and he wants Hansol to act quickly and _just teach him the_ _damn lesson_. But he knows he won’t. He always waits for him to respond to everything he does.

It’s sweet and wonderful, and makes Seungkwan feel like he’s truly being cherished. But sometimes, he just can’t handle the slowness, the agonizing waits. Sometimes, he can’t bring himself to give his verbal consent straight away, and it drives him crazy when Hansol completely stops what he’s doing until he’s been officially given the O.K. cue.

To be fair, he always makes sure to touch him when he does that – gently, admiringly (he knows Seungkwan can’t stand the lack of contact for too long). Right now, though, he doesn’t want gentle. But that’s all Hansol is willing to give him.

“Okay?” Hansol asks while drawing little circles into the small of his back, and Seungkwan thinks it’s ridiculous that he’s getting so emotional when he’s just about to get spanked in a slutty Santa-esque costume for being a ‘very naughty boy’. But he guesses that’s just how life is, and you can’t control when your feelings start to act up.

“Okay…”

 

The attitude switch is seamless.

“Do you really think you can just say whatever and experience no repercussions?” Hansol’s hand pats Seungkwan’s ass in an over-reserved manner – warningly.

“Well, do you?”

Seungkwan gasps sharply when his right buttcheek is being pinched, then yells with his absolute best bratty voice: “I can, to annoying people like you!”

An uproarious smack rings throughout the room right after, and Seungkwan gets pushed off a little further from Hansol’s shoulder due to the sheer force, yelping and panting and clawing into his back like a ferocious feline.

“Do you still hate me?”

“Oh _God_ , yes! I hate you _so_ much! I need to learn how to behave!”

“You do,” Hansol croons darkly. “But not like this.” Then, before Seungkwan can catch his breath fully again, the younger flips him over his lap, face and chest now planted into the mattress, and butt propped up by his knees.

 _Geez._ Seungkwan is being manhandled an awful lot today. He kinda likes it.

“How come you lost all that weight but your ass stayed so fat?” Hansol says once he finishes rearranging Seungkwan to his liking.

“Jealous?” Seungkwan taunts and wiggles his butt, although it’s not the easiest of tasks considering his compromising position and the way which Hansol’s hand travels along the deep arch of his back – from his shoulder blades, across the giant cutesy bow at the center of his back, to his protruding ass, then all over again.

“Why would I? I can look at yours whenever I feel like. I can touch it in ways you can’t – especially with my mouth. _Fuck,_ that’s the best. Really, you should be jealous of me.”

“T-that doesn’t make any sense! W-why would I be jealous of you? You’re d-dumb!” Seungkwan squeaks in an attempt to remind his boyfriend of their previous role-playing scenario (and maybe because he’s a tad bit embarrassed too). He is, for once, very glad his face is as far away from Hansol’s as it can be.

“ ** _You’re_** dumb? Did you already forget my name?”

“Hansol, Vernonie?” Seungkwan speaks the nickname subconsciously. “ HVC? Mr. Headphones? Jack? Stupid idiot? You have a lot of names, it’s kind of hard to keep track on all of them,” Seungkwan says and Hansol bursts into laughter out of genuine amusement, breaking his dominant facade.

“Yeah, I do,” he admits. “But I actually meant that thing you called me earlier. Y’know, while you were begging to suck my cock?”

Seungkwan pouts into the covers. “Oppa...?”

Hansol hums in verification and grabs a handful of ass to show his approval.

“Y-yeah, I’m not going to call you that again,” Seungkwan huffs.

He wants to, though.

“Say, Seungkwan, I've heard you’re really creative.” Hansol is now looming over his torso in a possessive manner, hand earnestly fondling his buttcheeks, and middle finger tracing his hole through the fabric of his panties with faint and long brushes, sending shivers along his spine. “How'd you like to make a fan-chant with only my name in it?”

Seungkwan hates to admit that he moans at this stupid proposition.

“N-never!”

Hansol delivers a light slap to Seungkwan’s ass, groaning contentedly when it jiggles under his palm. Seungkwan yawps and brings his hips up more.

“Fuck, babe. Your crack is completely eating your panties. Those tight stockings really draw attention to your ass, too. It’s fucking beautiful.”

“S-stop talking so much! You fucking fraud – you sure become chatty when there aren’t any cameras around!”

 **_Pow_ ** _!_

 _A_ nother blow – this time powerful enough to make Seungkwan bite into the sheets and whimper as his whole body seems to lurch forward, his forearms and chest digging into the bed.

“You want Oppa to shut up? Then just say it. You don’t even have to use nice words.”

Seungkwan’s shakes his head vehemently, refusing to corporate, wanting the reprimanding to continue.

 _Shit, why does it feel so good?_ He doesn’t usually like pain. But between Hansol admiring his ass like it’s a sacred thing, and the soothing caresses to his cheeks between each hit, the experience doesn’t seem so bad overall.

“I know you think about me, Seungkwan,” Hansol rasps, and taps Seungkwan’s butt fast enough that it produces a resonant ‘whoosh’, making the shorter squirm, and squeal, and shake his head into the mattress some more. “I know you jack off in the shower and think about me doing it.” The tapping continues more harshly, eliciting a bunch of feisty ‘no’s’ that leave Seungkwan’s vocal cords more strung out each time they spill out into the sex-filled air of the bedroom. “You act so naughty when you think no one’s watching. But I know.” Hansol slams his palm against Seungkwan’s shapely ass again and again, some smacks landing on the back of his thighs (the stockings serving as added friction when they shift down his tender skin as a result) and dangerously close to his balls. “Oppa knows how bad you are, how needy you are. Say it!”

“N-no! N-”

Hansol pushes Seungkwan’s back down, binding his tummy into the mattress, and swats his fingertips on top of his covered, quivering hole – hitting the extremely sensitive spot right between the ass crack and balls.

“Ah! _Oh, God!_ Yes, _yes_ , **yes**! I’m _so_ bad!”

Seungkwan’s entire backside is red now, his opened mouth marking the sheets he uses to muffle his loud shrieks and cries in damp spots. The sting is _so good_ – so delicious. The pom-poms on his panties bounce around when he gets propelled forward, occasionally brushing against his wet crotch when they get trapped between his dick and Hansol’s thigh.

Hansol’s deep baritone muttering vulgarities non-stop is like music to Seungkwan’s ears. He wants to tell him how naughty he really is, how much he thinks about him on a daily basis, how much he’s willing to surrender his body to him completely if he’d just ask him to. But he never gets the chance to do so, because hansol continues dealing blows to his ass with every other sentence he speaks, which completely erases Seungkwan’s ability to string together comprehensible words.

“Today you touched yourself after leaving the party, right?” Hansol massages Seungkwan’s right asscheek gently, calming the intense burn blooming all over his skin. “I could hear you when I went back to the dorm. You were moaning my name” He digs his fingers into the flesh harshly, and pulls it to the side, exposing Seungkwan’s g-string that stretches obscenely between his fat, jiggiling buttcheeks. “I was right outside the bathroom and you didn’t even invite me to join in.” _Smack!_ “I was so disappointed.” _Smack!_ “Then, you stopped calling my name.” _Smack! Smack! “_ Were you mad at yourself for thinking about me?” _Smack!_ “It’s fine, I know you do it all the time.” _Smack! “_ I do it too” _Smack! Smack! Smack!_ “I touch myself thinking about you, too.”

At these last words, the last speck of Seungkwan’s resistance shatters.

“You’re right– Oppa is right!” he shouts, unable to stop the messy onslaught of dirty confessions that files out of his mouth under the constant abuse of Hansol’s strict hand. “T-today b-before Oppa got back home, I-I was thinking about him in t-the shower and how much I-I wanted t-to touch him, and him t-to touch me! A-and a week ago, when it was my turn t-to do t-the laundry, I-I was about to p-put in one of Oppa’s shirts, but it jus– It s-smelled **_so_** good, I-I couldn’t help myself! I was so horny, after I closed the washing machine I sat on it a-and touched myself w-while thinking about Oppa and smelling his s-shirt! A-and four days a-ago, when I finished recording earlier than e-everyone, I got into Oppa’s bed and k-kept humping his pillow til I-I came! I e-even used your electric toothbrush once!”

…

…

Silence.

No slapping. No fabric swashing. No lewd accusations. No nothing. Seungkwan opens his tightly shut eyelids, fists slowly unclenching from the sheets.  

“Woah. I didn’t know _that,”_ he hears Hansol finally say above him. “My… toothbrush?”

Seungkwan wants to die. He wants to dig a hole in the ground, hide in it and never come out again. That’s it, they’re done for. No more Seungkwan and Vernon – no more 98 line. After what just happened, Hansol probably won’t want to talk to him for the rest of their lives.

“I mean, that’s… kinda flattering. How do you even use an electric toothbrush to masturbate? Do you use it on your dick or like, stick it up your butt?”

Oh, my god. He’s such a stupid idiot – Seungkwan, that is.

“Mainly the first one…” Seungkwan laughs bashfully, and turns his body sideways so he can look at Hansol’s face. “You don’t care?”

“Should I? It’s not like it’d be the first time that I get a taste of those things.”

_How ‘romantic’._

“You’re too sweet,” Seungkwan murmurs and smiles up at the younger warmly.

“Really?” Hansol snickers. “Even after I just finished destroying your ass?”

“Don’t say it like that, doofus,” Seungkwan scrunches up his nose. “And yeah, for your information, it hurts like a bitch. Thanks a lot, sweetheart.”

“I know you liked it. If you didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have been made aware of the fact that I need to get myself a new toothbrush.”

“Oh, shut up!” Seungkwan rolls his eyes and snorts, letting Hansol help him up into a proper sitting position on his lap. Then, they both fall together on the bed in a giggling fit.

“I’m sorry,” Hansol says once he finishes carefully laying Seungkwan’s head on the fluffy pillow near the headboard.

“For what?”

“For ignoring you, for not being there when you were feeling down, for thinking I can just do things that directly involve you without asking about them first,” Hansol stops to chuckle, “for destroying your ass.”

The corners of Seungkwan’s lips stretch up into a soft smile. “I’m sorry too…”

“For what?”

“For calling you names and being mean, for being too clingy and not giving you enough space, for…” He too makes a pause in his speech to chuckle, “using your toothbrush.”

“Hey, you can use it whenever you like.” Hansol strokes Seungkwan’s cheek as he talks, and leans down to bring him into a kiss.

With every ‘sorry’ and ‘I love you’ Hansol whispers out, Seungkwan finds himself leaning more into his touch, finds himself pressing his lips harder and with far more urgency against the familiar chapped texture of his madly searching lips. Finds himself using more of his tongue to frantically catch every single earth-shattering syllable his lover’s unbelievably sweet and affectionate words of apology contain.

With every passionate push, lick or bite Seungkwan gets in return, and each shallow breath Hansol lets out when his hands sneak their way inside his dirty sweater to roam across a rapidly hammering chest and an increasingly sweaty back, Seungkwan finds himself dissolving more into the warm and comforting embrace his lover has got him completely locked in. Finds himself moaning more frequently and with a desperate, higher-pitched voice, when Hansol’s makes quick work of his shaky thighs and sucks on the sensitive spot right behind his ear, just so he could bring his mouth back to his lips, and swallow the tiny whimpers and whines that he makes with one, languid and gentle open-mouth kiss.

“I love you, I love so much. I love you more than anything in this world – I really do,” Hansol murmurs against Seungkwan’s quivering form when their lips slow down to lightly graze each other in a slow and loving manner; the intimacy of the gesture amplified by the occasional brush of their noses and the never-shifting gaze of their eyes. “You're so precious to me. You make me feel so full – not like anyone or anything else I’ve ever known. I love you to death, Boo Seungkwan and I hope you know that.”

Seungkwan is entirely certain he has never been so perfectly and utterly aroused before. His whole body shakes like a leaf, and his breath stops completely from leaving his lungs when Hansol continues to lay honey-like confessions all across the line of his jaw and throat. His butterfly kisses flutter oh-so-softly and almost in an unachievable level of tenderness on Seungkwan’s heated skin,  rendering him speechless and teary-eyed from the violent wave of raw emotion that comes at once, swiftly, and washes all over him.

“I-I,” Seungkwan begins, voice small and weak – on the verge of cracking. He feels his vision gradually blurring, an ugly sob erupting from his parted lips when Hansol brings his fingers up to his face to wipe off tears and caress his red, burning cheeks – patiently waiting.

“I-I love you t-too!” Seungkwan eventually chokes out, mind hazy with overwhelming feelings he can’t even begin to put a label on. “I-I love so- _so_ much. I love you so much that it hurts! I love you more than anyon– More than anything in this world!”

“Woah, no need to be so sappy,” Hansol says, causing Seungkwan to laugh through his tears.

“Shut up! I hate you!”

“But just a second ago you said you loved me more than anything in this world.”

“I-I lied,” Seungkwan continues to giggle, his hiccups and sobs mingling with the happy sounds and creating a delightful cacophony. “It was a lie! Y-you’re stupid and I hate you!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry, Seungkwannie.”

“M-maybe if you actually thought before doing things you wouldn’t have to apologize s-so much…”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Hansol pecks each of Seungkwan slithery cheeks,  and the top of his head. “But I want you to know that everything I just said was completely true. I’m so deeply in love with you, Seungkwan, and every single moment we spend together only makes me fall for you even harder.”

“Hansolie… s-stop it… I’m going to cry again…”

Hansol smiles from ear to ear and shifts himself to Seungkwan’s right side with the help of his forearm, closely examining the blushing, disheveled, sobbing and overall deranged outcome of his words. For a minute, he only hovers. Then, his hand slowly brushes its way up Seungkwan’s thigh, pushing his dress above a couple of charming moles decorating the fair golden skin near one of his hip bones and his cute belly button. His brown eyes follow the swish and slide of the fabric as he takes his time unraveling Seungkwan with his carnal gaze. Eventually, they settle somewhere lower on the older’s abdomen, gleaming with dark intentions.

“You’re so hard, baby – and so wet...”

“I-It’s your fault!” Seungkwan squeaks, making Hansol’s grin grow even wider as he places himself back between his legs, palms now below his heaving chest, pretending to squeeze around the bra area of his dress.

First, Seungkwan laughs. Then, Hansol peels the fabric down to expose his nipples and his wolfish, predatory eyes tell him that he should feel a little afraid about his current disposition.  
  
“Is this where Santa stores all the extra milk he gets from people on Christmas Eve?” Hansol says alarmingly close to his right nipple, fingers already starting to knead the soft expanse of his chest. “Such a waste. Better drink it all up.”  
  
“You're an idiot!”  
  
“Your idiot?”  
  
“Of course, my very own cute little idiot.”

The massaging motions of Hansol’s hands catch more intensity and he brings his mouth around Seungkwan’s nipple, sucking hard.

“Okay, maybe not s-so c-cute!” Seungkwan gasps, instinctively threading his fingers through Hansol’s hair as he continues to flick his tongue repeatedly against his hardening bud, all while tweaking and twisting the other one between his thumb and forefinger in an almost religious manner – completely immersed in the task.

“O-or little...” Every last nerve of Seungwan’s body catches aflame when Hansol begins stroking his navel and hips alternatively, cock rubbing against his inner thigh – so close to his own painfully throbbing erection but not close enough. He screams when Hansol bites down on his nipple, groin pressing harder against him, and hands working an extra effort in finding every little hidden erogenous zone in his body.

Spots that he hasn’t even known could become sexually stimulating are now making Seungkwan whimper like a wanton whore and push Hansol’s head closer to his chest. He supposes it’s a culmination of everything that has happened up until now that’s causing him to react to even the smallest of things. But Seungkwan knows he’s already very sensitive and responsive in comparison to other people when it comes to being touched. At least, that’s what Hansol always enjoys telling him.

His hips buck upwards involuntarily, seeking that heavenly delicious friction he oh-so-painfully wants. It is nothing more than a desperate attempt to reach his release before Hansol’s expert fingers and hot mouth succeed in reducing him to a squirming, babbling mess grasping mindlessly at the bedsheets. But alas, Seungkwan’s restless trials meet a cruel and merciless end when the hand setting fire to his midriff darts to grab his waist and brings him – consumed by primal needs and humping the air – back down to the mattress.

“Don’t,” Hansol orders, lips making their way to Seungkwan’s collar bones and then up to his neck, leaving endless kisses that send shivers all throughout his body in their wake. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby,” Hansol mouths against Seungkwan’s jaw, right below his ear. His hands, placed on either side of the shorter’s belly, keep rubbing loving circles into the burning, soft skin as he talks. “Okay?”

A weak nod and a heavily breathed, “Hmmm” is all Seungkwan can manage. Then before he knows it, Hansol’s mouth is back on his hyper-sensitive chest. This time he chooses to start slow, circling the outline of Seungkwan’s right nipple with his pointer finger, and applying slight pressure with his nail after each time he decides to flick the other one with the tip of his tongue ever-so-lightly.

The times his tongue makes actual contact with the shorter’s awfully hard and pointy nub are moderate – intentionally so. It drives Seungkwan absolutely crazy. The over-gentleness Hansol handles him with and the barely-touches he insists on inflicting on his body, feel like pure torture to him. His entire chest tingles and aches in the sweetest way imaginable, a way which he never thought was even possible. As if ants crawled under his skin and began traveling all over, making permanent imprints everywhere they arrived with their itchy trails.

At the same time, Seungkwan can strongly sense the familiar, vicious pull at the pit of his stomach. The only thing which seems to be different, is that the great tension and heat that gather in his groin don’t seem to reach any kind of resolve. It is a continuous wave of pleasure that he is riding, but doesn’t know how to get off of. Or rather, isn’t let the permission to.

Seungkwan finds himself mewling like a cat in heat, and arching his back in an almost dangerous angle when Hansol’s fingers clamp around his nipple and continue to roll it between them in a fixed, lazy pace. He keeps wringing the bud in an upward motion every once and again, as if trying to milk Seungkwan of something he doesn’t have.

That thought shouldn’t turn Seungkwan on so much – shouldn’t turn him on at all! But it does. Oh, how much it does.

He wishes there was truth to Hansol’s previous joke. He wishes he could really produce milk for him to drink.

He wants Hansol to latch onto each of his nipples, and not let go until he sucks him completely dry. Until Seungkwan’s entire front is slick with saliva and milk. Until he is shaking violently and is incapable of making any sounds due to too much screaming and crying.

He wishes Hansol will go a little rough on him.

But he doesn’t. He is not willing to amp up the intensity. The slow, gentle torture continues and it doesn’t seem like it would ever end.

All Seungkwan can really do at the moment, is try not to move too much and accidently kick something off of Joshua’s nightstand. His hand automatically shoots to his mouth in an attempt to block his over-excited moans. But Hansol is faster and ends up beating him to it – his unbusy hand moving up from Seungkwan’s waist and lacing itself with his tremulous fingers.

Hansol brings Seungkwan’s shaky palm near his head, and squeezes it once affectionately; just in time for an especially loud shriek to break through the older’s lips as his left nipple is given an exceptionally fierce suck. _Finally_.

“You sound so good. Don’t ever try to hold your voice back,” Hansol groans.

The tears return to Seungkwan’s eyes once more, countless unrestrained whimpers and whines accompanying them, as Hansol continues to assault his nipples. He nips his left areola delicately with the very edges of his teeth, simultaneously swirling his tongue around the elongated bud as quick as he can, all while making sure to give the exact opposite treatment to the other nipple – idle, gentle brushes downwards with his finger pad.

Seungkwan would’ve most likely commended his boyfriend’s amazing coordination skills. That is, if only he were capable of coherent thought and had the ability to use his vocal cords for something other than moaning like a total slut.

He does have enough awareness to feel sorry for the fact that he’s most likely crushing Hansol’s hand in his, right now. He can’t help it, though. It’s the only thing he has in order to anchor himself to reality.

So when Hansol keeps on ruthlessly licking, tweaking and biting his chest, Seungkwan natural reaction is to squeal obscenely, angle his body off the mattress to give him better access to his now-candy-cane-red nipples, and grip his hand as hard and as tightly as he can.

 

“Nghh, Oppa…”

 

“ _Ahh!_ Oppa!”

  
“Hans– H-hansolie...”

 

Hansol looks up at Seungkwan’s flushed face from his chest, mouth fully dedicated to suck relentlessly on his left nipple – so he doesn’t get a worded reply. “Hmm?”  
  
“Kiss.” And just with this one, simple word, Hansol immediately detaches his mouth from Seungkwan’s entirely slick and red bud,  moving upwards to meet him in a deep, wild and passionate kiss. While he’s doing that, his fingers find their way to either of the shorter’s nipples and pinch down harshly – without any mercy. The reaction is otherworldly.

Without Seungkwan ever expecting it, his whole body starts to shudder uncontrollably, the tingling sensation in his chest turning to hot, blinding pleasure that courses through him like a tsunami, vanishing swiftly and just like a true natural disaster: leaving him completely rattled, ruined and in a magnificent state of afterglow.

Hansol catches each of his trapped moans in his mouth when he trembles for minutes on end after and fizzles out in his arms. Eventually, the spasms of his body grow fewer and less drastic, and Hansol lifts his face from Seungkwan’s elated one to gape at him. His expression shows one thing only: mesmerization.

It takes Seungkwan a whole five seconds to internalize what has just occurred to him – the catalyst to this realization being Hansol’s awestruck words.

“Woah, I can’t believe it worked... You actually came only fro–”

“It’s so e-embarrassing!”

“No it’s not. I think it’s hot.”

“Y-you think everything I do is hot!”

“Yeah, so? I don’t really see a problem with that…”

Seungwan does his best to steady his breath and focus his bleary vision on Hansol, who has just moved to lie beside him, one hand on the pillow, playing with Seungkwan’s blonde mess of a hair, and the other holding Seungkwan’s waist, brushing the same small circles his fingers tend to naturally draw whenever they come in contact with his skin.

“What d-did you mean by ‘it worked’, b-by the way?”

At Seungkwan’s inquiry, the lovestruck expression on Hansol’s face changes into a shy, little smile and he bites his lip, seemingly unconfident in what he’s about to say. “Well I- I was doing some research before tonight…” he starts, pupils darting to the side to stare at the ceiling. “About new techniques and stuff like that – things that we can try together in bed. So I ended up reading a little about nipple stimulation and apparently, some people can come only from that. But all the articles I’ve read said that it takes a few times before that can happen – especially for men. So I was really surprised when you actually came on the first time I tried it!” Hansol’s voice grows more excited with every word he speaks, his eyes centered wholly on Seungkwan with no hint of his previous sheepishness. “I was just trying to get you used to the feeling, but I guess…” He detangles his hand from the older’s hair to trace the shape of his lips with his thumb. “There was no need to.”

Seungkwan is going to perish tonight. He doesn’t think his poor little heart can contain any more love and adoration. He’s going to die from feeling too much.

 _Gosh,_ Hansol is so cute when he goes on his long-winded tangents and gets completely lost to the world by endless musings. His eyes sparkle in such a beautiful way, and his entire face seems to light up in childish enthusiasm. As if he has his own little sun that shines upon him whenever he chooses to speak of something close to his heart.

“Hansolie…”

“What, baby?”

“You’re still hard…”

Honestly, how can he just forget about things like that? It’s truly phenomenal. Seungkwan would’ve died – or at least turned insane – if he were in his place right now!

“Oh.” Hansol blinks. “I’ll take care of it myself later.”

Seungkwan frowns. What a dumb and ludicrous idea – he’s going to have none of that! His pretty and precious prince shouldn’t have to deal with such things on his own! Especially after he just made him have the best orgasm he’s ever experienced in his life.

“Do you wanna…?” Seungkwan asks, voice hoarse and body frail. Despite that, he brings himself to lie on his side to face Hansol, smiling at him with all the warmth, endearment and joy that threaten to spill from his chest in unstoppable streams. His hands, in the meantime, move upwards to caress the younger’s cheeks with a similar gentle manner to the one that’s being applied to his own hips.

“Wanna?”

“Wanna…” Seungkwan nuzzles Hansol’s neck coyly and kisses a soft line up to his earlobe. “Inside me... ”

“You sure? It’s been more than a month…”

“I know…” Seungkwan confirms with a single nod against the juncture of Hansol’s right shoulder and neck. _Precisely because of that._ “You still want to, right?”

“Of course,” comes the instant reply. “But we can’t do it with you like this... Let me help you.”

In no time, Hansol is between his thighs again, his hands instinctively grabbing the underside of either one for steadiness – so Seungkwan would feel more comfortable not crossing his legs when he brings his mouth to his soaked panties (right under the mistletoe-decorated ribbon), and begins suckling on the tip of his penis through the sticky fabric, almost in a trance.

“Nghh... H-hanso- H-huh, _ahh!_ ”

 _Oh God. Oh God._ Is Seungkwan even alive yet? He didn’t think something in real life could feel so heavenly – so perfectly and painfully good. He didn’t think he had any voice left in him after coming so hard just a few minutes ago, either. _God, only a few minutes ago._ It’s too quick – his body hasn’t even fully recovered from the intense aftershocks of his orgasm yet. And it’s one-hundred percent tangible; everything feels too much. Too fucking much and all at once and– _Oh God_ – Oh **_God!_**

Seungkwan swears he is going to become a devoted Christian after tonight. For such amazing sensations to exist... God must be real – he has to!

“You taste so good, Seungkwannie. Your whimpers are so pretty, I could come from just hearing your voice. You look gorgeous like this, babe – you really do.”

If Hansol’s mouth didn’t already succeed in making him hard and overwrought with desire, his words sure do.

“That was fast,” Hansol smirks above Seungkwan’s face, the heel of his hand replacing the place of his mouth on the older’s crotch,  massaging wide circles up the oversensitive shaft. Seungkwan moans shakily in response, and throws his arms around Hansol, pulling him down into a greedy kiss, lips and tongue and teeth clinging to everything they happen to cross paths with.

His thoughts revolve around one thing and one thing only: Hansol. Hansol’s hot mouth and Hansol’s deep voice. His poignant sweaty musk, his bulging veins, his sharp jaw and flawless eyebrows, his thin, bow-shaped lips and wide shoulders. Hansol’s everything. Everything Hansol.

 _Hansol_.

“Please, H-hansolie… Please…”

“Wait, huh, I need to…” Hansol tries to speak and satiate Seungkwan’s urgent needs at the same time. “I Need to go get the… get the things first...”

It takes another three full minutes of kissing each other senseless until Seungkwan is finally willing to let him go.

“Come back quick, okay?” Seungkwan whines against the corner of Hansol’s lips, mouth still making frantic wet trails along the feverish skin.

Hansol nods furiously, pecking Seungkwan on his plump and puckered lips once to show his absolute commitment to the promise. Then, he bolts from the bed and out of the room before the other can even bat an eye.

When he returns not even a minute later, he doesn’t head to the bed straight away – like what Seungkwan has hoped he would do. Instead, he goes around the room and places what appears to be light yellow candles on several pieces of furniture, lighting them as fast as he can with the help of a matchbox he most likely got from the kitchen.

“Where did you…?”

“Jihoon-hyung gave them to me a couple of hours ago together with the keys to the studio. Guess he knew something was about to happen tonight,” Hansol explains while blowing on the match used for the last candle in his batch. ‘‘They smell like cheesecake, don’t you think that’s really nice of him?”

As though Seungkwan can be even bothered to think about such trivial things, when all his mind is filled with are varied plans of how he’s going to bring to the attention of one extremely handsome, half-American boy how deeply and utterly in love with him he is.

But Seungkwan doesn’t have to do much in order to draw Hansol’s attention, because without him even noticing, the other is back to his usual staring, the faint shadows of his long lashes cascading in front of his pretty brown eyes almost ethereally so.

Seungkwan stares back at the tousled, gorgeous boy before him and his heart starts beating loudly in his chest. Louder than it ever did.

His black hair falls on his face messily, his sweater almost sliding off from one shoulder – as if he has just finished fighting an especially destructive wind spirit. Everywhere Seungkwan looks he can see marks and spots of pink and red – his own brush strokes that put the final touches to the most magnificent of paintings.

Illuminated by the yellow light of the candle, Hansol looks just like a statue of an ancient Greek god. He doesn’t even need the bright museum lighting to showcase how unbelievably breathtaking he is.

_Masterpiece._

“ _You're beautiful…_ ” Hansol says as if in a dream, the words swiftly slipping through his lips in soft-spoken English. “ _You’re beautifuler,_ ” Seungkwan whispers just the same.

“I don’t think that’s an actual word,” Hansol laughs out in Korean and hurries to climb on top of him in bed, a bottle of lube in one hand.

“It is now.”

The first thing Seungkwan does when Hansol is back within his reach is rapidly pull his sweater up and off of his body. “You really hate that sweater, huh?” Hansol chuckles and helps Seungkwan’s unstable hands get the garment past his head.

“I was just planning on burning it with one of those candles…”

Seungkwan sighs in pure content when Hansol’s bare chest and tummy finally make their long-awaited appearance, his hands immediately shooting to touch every inch of skin he has been deprived of for so long – longer than should be legal.

“Lift your legs, baby,” Hansol instructs as he slides the remainings of Seungkwan’s dress down his waist.

Seungkwan lets Hansol position his calves on either side of his hips so he can do it more easily. He then shivers when Hansol finally peels off his awfully wet panties, and discards them and the unidentifiable blob of red and white cloth to the corner of the room, near the trash can. The next thing to go is his sticky gloves.

Seungkwan is already halfway to take off his stockings, when Hansol stops him with a firm grasp on the back of his hands. “Let them stay, I really like how you look in them.” So Seungkwan does just that.

“I wanna sit on you,” Seungkwan says when the unbearable task of undressing each other is finished at last, kissing Hansol’s right cheek, then his left.

“Like, on my face?”

“No, not like that. I want you to lean against the headboard so I can sit on you.”

“Y’know, I think you’ve spent more time on my lap today, than in all of the last four years combined.”

Lies. They both spent more than a respectable amount of time sitting on each other’s laps in the past and he knows it.

“I don’t mind, I like you sitting on me. Especially with those stockings. Especially with this collar. Just because I like looking at you,” Hansol coos when they eventually get into Seungkwan’s favorite position. He loves being on top, because then, he can clearly see Hansol’s face and is also in charge of a great part of his pleasure. He doesn’t like to feel like he isn’t doing anything.

The entire last hour was more or less Hansol focusing solely on him and that kind of thing just doesn’t sit well with Boo Seungkwan. He always strives to give back as much as gets from his loved one – and then some more.

“Ready?” Hansol opens the bottle of lube with an audible click, and squirts a generous amount of its contents onto his hand. He leans forward to connect his lips with Seungkwan’s gently, whispering countless little ‘I love you’s’ as he circles his middle finger around the shorter’s rim.  “Nghh…” Seungkwan winces in discomfort when the first digit prods at his entrance. So Hansol kisses him harder, the movements of his hand instantly slower.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…” Seungkwan breathes into Hansol’s mouth harshly, hands gripping his shoulders so tight his knuckles turn white.

“You’re doing so well, Seungkwannie. I love you so much.”

The next five minutes are comprised of a mixed array of endearments mumbled in a calming, hushed tone and the occasional gasp or sharp inhale that breaks the sweet mantra of encouraging words after every ‘squelch’ Hansol’s nimble fingers cause.

“Wow, I got in two – you are amazing. _Fuck_ , you feel amazing too, babe. You’re so perfect right now. You’re doing so well.” With each word, Seungkwan’s body relaxes more, and his arms frame Hansol’s shoulders less stiffly. The painful stretch fades into the back of his brain quickly after, and immense pleasure comes in its stead.

Soon enough, Seungkwan is moaning in enjoyment and wiggling his butt on Hansol’s fingers for more of the miniature lightning bolts that shoot through his entire body every time the younger strikes a particularly good spot inside of him.

“I-I want it inside… Can I?” Seungkwan asks when he parts his mouth from Hansol’s after an especially wet kiss, his lips shiny with multiple layers of saliva.

“Sure, babe.”

That’s all Seungkwan really needs. He pours lube directly on Hansol’s cock, and proceeds to stroke it at the same time as his hole is being fingered; now with a tad bit more force than before.

“Huh, Seungkwan, _fuck._ So good – you’re so good.”

Hansol retracts his slick fingers from Seungkwan’s fluttery hole when the latter latches onto his biceps and brings his ass above his dick, mouth resting just an inch away from his left ear. So when Seungkwan plummets back on Hansol’s lap, the lewd noises he produces reach him as soon as they leave his lips.

“Okay?” Hansol rasps, his hands holding onto Seungkwan, keeping him up – preventing him from taking his entire cock all at once, like how he knows he’s prone to do.

“Y-yes. Hansolie. Oh, God...” Seungkwan sinks down on Hansol’s shaft little by little, the younger’s satisfied grunts and worried, sharp sounds guiding his speed, helping him know when he should slow down when he’s going too fast.

“I love you! Hansol, I love you!”

“I-I love you too. You’re so good, babe. Look, you got everything in.”

 _So full._ Seungkwan shakes for a long minute as he adjusts himself around Hansol’s girth. He hasn’t felt like this in a very long while. Hasn’t felt Hansol’s cock deep inside him, stretching him so deliciously, reaching all the right places, leaving his head to hang in the clouds together with God and the angels.

God – he is real for sure. No doubts about it. Angels are real too – he’s sitting on one right now.

“S-seungkwan, please move soon…”

Hansol is so cute when he begs. Seungkwan understands why he likes seeing him do it so much. But as much as he wants to comply with the other’s wish and move, his body feels far too weak to do anything. He’s still so sensitive from everything that has been done to him.

 _Fuck_. He just wanted to make his boyfriend feel good and didn’t think much past that. He thoughtlessly climbed on top of him as soon as the opportunity presented itself. How embarrassing.

“Please… you’re too tight, I can’t handle it.” Hansol grips Seungkwan’s hips forcefully, his words growled out rather than spoken.

“I-I can’t… Hansolie…” Seungkwan pants into his ear, his voice fluctuating terribly as he tries to word a proper permission for Hansol to do whatever he wants with him. Eventually, he says the one sentence he believes will be the most effective (it’s the only thing he can think about, anyway);

“P-please fuck me hard, Oppa…”

Hansol, always one to blindly obey everything Seungkwan asks him to, thrusts upwards without a second thought – setting a vicious pace straight from the get-go. Seungkwan clings onto his shoulders with the little energy he has left in him, gasping and yelping into the crook of his neck with every new stab to his insides.

“Hansol! Hansol! Hansol!” Seungkwan shouts after each time Hansol drills into him, voice bouncing similarly to his body. He thinks he’s moving on his own, but between Hansol’s determined hands pulling his ass down on his cock and the continuous grinding of his hips below him, it’s pretty hard to tell if he’s doing much of anything – if anything at all, really.

“Huh, don’t worry about it, babe. I-It’s your present. I’m here just for you, okay?”

Seungkwan nods weakly, the big and heavy rock of guilt disappearing from his chest. Still, he decides that if he can’t bring his body to move, he’ll at least busy himself with doing something useful with his mouth. Thus, he makes it his mission to lick and bite every last bit of Hansol’s neck and shoulders in his field of vision, moaning happily against the reddening skin when pleasured groans and sighs flood his ears shortly after, and the cock inside of him starts hitting his inner walls with newfound vigor.

Maybe sucking bruises onto an idol’s visible body parts isn’t such a bright idea. But Seungkwan can’t bring himself to care. It’s nothing a good amount of makeup and a turtleneck can’t fix. Besides, they’re both completely covered in love bites. The damage has already been done.

“H-hansol!” Seungkwan wails and bites into Hansol’s shoulder like a feral feline when he feels his cock slamming against his prostate. He thinks he might just come from that alone.

“Hansol, again! _Fuck_ , just like that!” The tension builds up in Seungkwan’s groin in searing, uncontrollable currents – every move Hansol makes, every breath he takes and every sweet word he speaks pushing him an extra mile toward true, divine ecstasy.

When he cries and screams that he’s about to come at any second, that he loves Hansol more than anything in the world, that he wants to kiss him, to feel him closer, deeper – for as long as he lives. That’s when the thrusts coming from under his overheated body turn more violent, long and focused and a warm hand wraps itself around his neglected, leaking cock, tugging wickedly – brutally – upwards.

Seungkwan comes with Hansol’s lips on his own; the lack of oxygen and the feeling of near suffocation only amplifying the rush of electricity running through each of his veins. His cum smears on Hansol’s fist and both of their stomachs. His hole clenches around Hansol’s cock in a vice grip and he hears him cursing, grunting and howling like a rabid canine, before he falls completely wrecked on top of his chest, feeling how his insides fill with jet after jet of thick, hot, wonderful cum.

 _Best Christmas ever,_ Seungkwan thinks as he rolls onto his back,  disjoining from Hansol after some time of them panting exhaustedly into each other’s mouths. He definitely burned all the unwanted calories he gained from those candy canes earlier.

“That was…” He hears Hansol’s voice coming fuzzily from somewhere by his head. “ **Wow**.”

_‘Wow’ indeed._

Seungkwan feels as if he’s floating on a bed of clouds, his heart full to the brim with unadulterated happiness. So much so, that he’s convinced it’s on the brink of overflowing and drowning him together with Joshua’s mattress and the rest of the room.

“You look horrible,” Hansol says and intertwines their hands lazily on top of the rumpled sheets, a huge, dopey grin reaching the corners of his glimmering eyes.

It’s moments like this that make Seungkwan think: _Huh, love is truly great like everyone swears it is._ It’s moments like this that cause him to sing about falling head over heels for someone with a lot more conviction than he would’ve otherwise.  

“Have you seen your hair? It looks like you let small rodents live in there for an entire month.”

 _Still fucking gorgeous, though._ Seriously, fuck Hansol for always looking like he just stepped out of the silver screen. Even after two straight hours of fucking like animals – what the actual hell?

“So…” Seungkwan drones out eventually. “The ‘research’ you mentioned earlier – you do that kind of thing on a regular basis?”

“Uh, not usually…” Hansol blushes at the reminder. “Recently, I was feeling like maybe I’m not doing enough for our relationship… So, I just– I thought that I should suggest something new,” he confesses,  and brushes Seungkwan’s palm with his thumb gingerly. “Y’know?”

“Not doing enough?” Seungkwan says. “I seriously couldn’t ask you to do anything more than what you already do!”  

“Thanks.” Hansol beams at him. “I’m glad I could make you feel better even with that whole fucked up situation about your parents being caught in a storm and all.”

“It’s fine, I know they’ll be alright,” Seungkwan sighs and twirls Hansol’s fingers between his. “It just sucks that I can’t even wish them a simple Merry Christmas after everything that they've done for me.”

Hansol nods in understanding and squeezes Seungkwan’s hand as he continues to sulk.

“I actually planned to meet up with my sister tomorrow. But she can’t show up because of work.”

“Well, actually… About your sister…” Hansol starts, the telltale tone of his words making Seungkwan raise his eyes from their connected hands curiously.

“I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but she actually called me a couple of days ago. She said that she wanted to surprise you during Christmas and asked me about restaurants you’ve taken a liking to lately and things you’d like to get as a present and stuff. So I told her about that place you and Mingyu-hyung always go to. Then, she told me to make sure you’ll be available after our schedule tomorrow, so she can come fetch us both for a ‘family outing’. She also said something about how she trusts me to take especially good care of her ‘precious baby brother’. So I told her: ‘Of course, Noona. You know me – I always take good care of him.’ Then, she just, like,  laughed and hung up on me,” Hansol finishes with a confused shrug, scrunching up his nose adorably. “Yeah…”

“So, what I’m getting from everything you’ve just said, is that her visit was supposed to be a secret, but you just revealed the secret to me and basically ruined the entire surprise?”

“Yeah…?”

“You’re too sweet,” Seungkwan coos and settles on top of Hanso’s chest to deliver a very meaningful kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Really? Even after I just finished destroying your a–”

“Shhhh, Hansol. Let me have just this one moment.”

Hansol indeed shuts up – but only for two minutes or so. Not like Seungkwan minds, though. _He’s so cute when he gets all talkative like that._

“I still can’t believe you agreed to wear that dress.”

“I can’t believe it either.” Seungkwan traces spirals onto Hansol’s chest absently. He’ll definitely need to get some sort of payback in the future for the grand sacrifice his dignity had to take tonight. But then again, what could have he really done to prevent it? He simply can’t resist those stupid puppy dog eyes for too long...

A light bulb suddenly goes off in Seungkwan’s head and he smirks down at Hansol devilishly. “You know, my birthday is coming up soon and I think you'd look extremely adorable in a pair of dog ears.”

“Dog ears?“

“A pair of fluffy dog ears and a baby-blue collar with big and bold letters that read: Boo Seungkwan’s property, do not even **_think_** about touching, or else he’ll make sure to hunt your nasty ass down, and end both yours and all of your relatives’ worthless lives.”

“Uh… that’s a lot to put on a collar…”

“Some people can’t do without a straight message unfortunely,” Seungkwan mumbles with a complete lack of energy, snuggling further into Hansol’s chest “I’m tired…”

“Sleep then.”

“I can’t. I’m all sticky.” Seungkwan grimaces, turning his chin upwards to look at his boyfriend with heavy eyelids and a pair of puffed out cheeks.  “Carry me to the bathroom.”

“I always end up carrying you somewhere,” Hansol whines.

“That’s called taking responsibility. It’s part of being an adult – you’re going to be one soon,” Seungkwan chides, and rolls off of Hansol, body falling bonelessly onto the mattress beside him. “Better get used to doing things you don’t feel up to.”

“Yeah…” Hansol sighs deeply, and straightens up into sitting. “Can I join in this time? Please?” He climbs down to the floor, brown puppy-eyes looking beseechingly at the demanding boy still lying on the bed.

“I’ll think about it,” Seungkwan hums. “Now, take me there already before I pass out and never wake up again.” His words bring about a cheerful bubble of laughter, and not a second passes before he is presented with the tempting offer of Hansol’s outstretched arms.

“Hop on, Princess.”

 

 


	4. Aftermath

 

 

When Jihoon finally wakes up from his brief yet precious slumber, it is to the all too familiar sound of someone attempting to shatter every single glass-made object in a ten-kilometer radius.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”

“I wanted to let you sleep for a little longer, you looked so tired I– ”

“But it was my mom, Hansol! My fucking mother! How could you?!”

“I didn’t check the caller I.D...”

“Of course you didn’t consider checking it in case it would be my mother. Why would you?! That kind of thinking process actually requires having a brain!”

Whoever said that idols have it easy, should really try living with twelve other boys in a cramped (and more often than not, messy) apartment, whilst the only thing that prevents you from experiencing certain sensory demise is two inches worth of crumbling plaster walls. Rest is a very rare luxury with that kind of arrangement, Jihoon can attest as much as that.

“Ughh, noisy fuckers... “

“Good morning, sunshine,” a low-sounding rasp reaches Jihoon’s ears as he groans and turns around in bed. He instinctively buries his face further into the sad-looking pancake positioned beneath his head (formerly known as his pillow) in order to drown out the obnoxious voices of SEVENTEEEN’s currently two most brain-dead members. And yes, that title is legit. He’s made himself a list which he updates on a fairly regular basis, thank you very much.

“Jihoonie, the sun’s been out for hours. Am I not gonna get a good morning kiss?”

_Oh_ , _fuck_. _What_ _the_ _fresh_ _fucking_ _hell?!_ Jihoon’s soul almost escapes his body.

In the time it takes for his paranoid heart to slow down into a normal-functioning pace, his foggy vision clears out enough for a pair of droopy, long-lashed eyes to take shape before him. Far too close to his face than he would’ve ever liked any other person’s anything to be at, frankly.

“Hyung, shit.” Jihoon’s soul decides to make a second leap of faith out of his throat, as the other bed-occupier scoots further in his direction once they fully come face to face with one another, his plump, soft-looking lips stretched into a lazy smile a mere few centimeters away from Jihoon’s own.

Wait. What.

Jihoon immediately jolts back, as far away from his personal-space-invader as he can possibly manage without completely dropping his ass to the floor.

All of a sudden, the comforting heat he had previously attributed to the magic-like qualities of his duvet manifests itself in the form of a human body. More specifically, a warm, solid and very much naked human chest which he’s totally not been snuggling into up until a second ago.

“Have you slept well? It sure seems like it. You were cuddling up to me very cutely and being extra clingy throughout the night and I know for a fact you would never do something like that with a conscious mind, so I’m glad.”

“Hyung, what are you doing in my bed?” Jihoon sighs tiredly and sits up on his mattress, so he can look more put-together when he squints down in dissatisfaction at Seungcheol’s overly affectionate expression (or at least as put-together as someone who’s woken up a literal two minutes ago can possibly look).

“What do you mean what am I doing?” Seungcheol’s deep, sleep-edged laughter rumbles out of his chest and pierces through the last of Jihoon’s coherent thoughts. “You were the one who suggested it.”

The younger boy chokes on his spit just a tiny bit at these words. “I did...?” he asks a tad skeptical, slightly embarrassed, and wipes the remaining specks of exhaustion that cling to the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You don’t remember?” Seungcheol sniggers at him, tone bouncy and cheerful. Almost mocking.

_Remember?_

Jihoon’s supposed to remember something? He blinks a couple of times in confusion, trying his best to recall some of the things that have happened last night. His mind is swirling with hazy images and dancing spots of bright neon colors. But maybe that’s just his hungover brain reacting to what little sunlight that manages to sneak its way into the room through the ajar curtains of the window opposite him.

_Remember?_

Actually, now that Jihoon stops to think about it, he can definitely feel a sickening churning at the pit of his stomach, accompanied by an excruciatingly throbbing pain that feels like it’s seeping through to every last one of his brain cells.

The last definite memory he can bring himself to rescue from his jumbled mind is this: Jeonghan whistling and shouting for him to take everything off, minutes after they had finished the corner-store-bought suju they’d sleekly sneaked in Mingyu’s messenger bag to spike the punch with. Then him, Jihoon, proceeding to butcher some classic trot song with the help of a very willing and slightly tipsy partner in the form of Moon Junhui (and an over-giggly Kim Mingyu after a few swigs from his own homemade beverage)

After those initial details settle in, numerous other memories start flooding Jihoon’s pounding brain all at once, and at the root of every single one of them, a certain name seems to stick out above all else.

“ _Kwon_ _Soonyoung_ ,” Jihoon all but growls out.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” Seungcheol agrees.

That fucking bastard.

Everything had been simply fine and dandy last night, until Soonyoung had barged into the room they were having their little party in, screaming in outright hysteria that Chan had officially decided to give up on life and was planning to jump off the company’s roof.

Maybe if his audience wasn’t composed of a bunch of wasted and sleep-deprived idols he would’ve gotten much less of a reaction (after all, Chan is a very bright kid and is lengths away from being suicidal). But Soonyoung’s water-sprayed face apparently was just enough to convince the rest of the members he was indeed telling the truth, and all of them immediately darted toward the stairwell after a panicked Jeonghan, who broke the suju bottle he was holding in half and shouted: “I’m coming for you, sweetie!”

Then, after the last of them had filed outside to the building top just to discover no such self-destructive Chan anywhere in their vicinity, Soonyoung shut the door behind them with a resounding bang and left everyone to fend for themselves in the cold.

For three hours.

Three hours in the freezing cold with nine drunk guys on a rooftop of a four-story building in the middle of noisy-as-all-hell Seoul.  

What a fucking bastard.

Not that returning to the dorm was that much better than playing the frying-pan game for hours on end and listening to Wonwoo’s riveting winter puns, yeah? Jihoon could honestly do without coming back to learn that while the rest of the members had been worrying themselves over not developing hypothermia, Seungkwan and Hansol had been fucking like rabbits on enhanced aphrodisiac and were currently passed out in one of the rooms, holding off precious sleep from poor Seokmin and Jisoo.

And that’s how, Jihoon finally reminds himself, Seokmin ended up crashing out on Hansol’s bed and Seungcheol cleared his own for Jisoo, joining Jihoon on the lower bunk instead.  

“Satan’s fucking anus, I need some goddamn coffee.”

“Here you go, that’s the Lee Jihoon I know.”

Jihoon shoves himself off the bed with a sluggish groan, and stuffs his feet into his house-slippers. He then exits the bedroom with Seungcheol in tow, but not before throwing an escaping blanket that had reached the floor during the night over a still-very-much-unconscious Jeonghan and tucking him comfortably in.   

“Oh, fuck, Hansol, would you please put some clothes on? You’re gonna blind people!” Seungcheol calls in horror as they step out into the apartment, the sight of Hansol trying to dismantle a rather pissed off looking Seungkwan while wrapped up in a blanket (and nothing more) greeting them first thing.

“And how many times do I have to tell you guys not to drag blankets around the house? It moves the dust to other rooms! It should remain in one spot only, but instead, you make it harder for me to ignore and then I have to tell Mingyu to clean it!”

“Tell them to stop throwing books on the floor, too!” Wonwoo’s voice adds insistently from the living room, and Seungcheol nods at his complaint in approval.

“Yeah, don't do that either!”

“Seungkwannie, baby, I’m so sorry, what more can I say? Please don't be mad,” Hansol begs, trailing behind Seungkwan like a helpless puppy in a desperate attempt to make him stop frowning and look at him. Seungkwan indeed turns to face him as a result, but his scowl only seems to darken further.

“That's what you don't get, Hansol, there's nothing you can do! This blizzard has been going on for days now, and it’s only getting stronger! For all I know my mother could have called to leave me her dying message, but because of you I'll never be able to hear or speak to her ever again!”

As soon as these ferocious words leave Seungkwan’s mouth, Lee Hyori’s ‘U-Go-Girl’ starts playing at an ear-splitting volume throughout the entire dorm, and he gasps, instantly fumbling to get his blaring phone out of the pocket of his light-coral pajama pants.

“Oh my god, it’s my mother!” the pink-clad boy exclaims a second later. “Everyone, shut up!” He glares at everyone in his line of vision as he hurries to flop down on the living room couch next to Wonwoo and snuggle against his chest.

“Hello, Mother Dearest, I’m so happy you called, I’ve missed you so much! Christmas Eve wasn’t the same without hearing your beautiful voice! How are you and Dad doing? Alright? I heard about the storm from Sojeong-noona. Yes, me and the guys are doing fine. We’re eating lots and resting plenty, don’t worry. Who? Hansol? Hansol’s fine, _I_ _guess_. Funny you asked, he said he was really missing you and will gladly fly all the way to Jeju just to have a shared meal with everyone else again! All the other guys think so too, actually, not just him. They love your cooking! Yeah, yeah. I know, Hansol’s a really sweet kid. Anyways, Wonwoo says hello. You know, Wonwoo? The overly skinny one that can’t eat seafood? Yeah, yeah! The boney fragile-looking fella you force-fed for three days straight! Listen, I think I might bring him over next time we’ll be let out. Y’know, instead of the usual nuisance. Yeah... _Chwe_ _Hansol_. That’s his name, alright.”

Jihoon graces a debilitated Hansol with a sympathetic look as he makes his way past his motionless, sagging body and toward the kitchen. There he pours himself some of the coffee Mingyu has made, and slumps into one of the bar stools in front of a diligently-working Minghao, who’s passionately instructing the cooks on proper meal preparation.

“What’s happening?” Chan asks as he slowly stirs his soggy cereal with a stained pair of chopsticks, face scrunched up in confusion, or disgust – Jihoon isn’t entirely sure.

Junhui smiles softly at the inquiry as he frets over the pot of ramen bubbling up on the stove, then goes to clean the drops of milk trickling from Chan’s overflowing bowl with the kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. “True love.”

“That's right!” Soonyoung declares profoundly as he materializes out of thin air behind Chan and hugs his shoulders, rocking him from side to side. “Feast your eyes, maknae. One day you’ll grow up and meet that special someone, and before you know it you’ll be screaming at each other in your underwear at eight o’clock in the morning.”

“You mean to tell me that I’m gonna end up like these two idiots? Yeah, I think I much rather stay single for the next century or two.”

Soonyoung bursts out laughing at the youngest’s words and ruffles his hair roughly, which in turn elicits a barrage of heated protests that concludes with Chan fleeing from the breakfast table – as far away from his tyrannical hyung’s reach as possible.

“Did you like your present?” Soonyoung whispers, lips curled up good-naturedly, as he takes a seat next to Jihoon.

“Did you do that?”

“You mean, planted the stupid idea in Vernon’s head that he shouldn’t wake Seungkwan up when his mother called? Nah, that’s all his doing. You can’t blame me for that.”

“No, I mean,” Jihoon sighs and shifts his gaze from his steaming mug to Soonyoung’s dancing fingers, tapping a quick rhythm on the wooden cover of the kitchen island, “Made sure that they’ll end up, uh, y’know, together?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I did.”

“How? They seemed pretty distant to me last night. Seungkwan looked like he was in an extremely bad mood from the very beginning.”

“Well, that was all part of the plan.” Soonyoung winks and Jihoon quirks a questioning eyebrow, so he explains, “Vernon came to me a couple days ago all stressed out ‘cause he couldn’t find a good enough gift for Seungkwan and there were only two days left till the party. So I told him that if he can’t figure out anything he should just give Seungkwan himself as a present.”

“That’s got to be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard.”

“I know, right?? So what I did, then, was help him devise a foolproof plan to make sure Seungkwan would be extra grouchy during Christmas Eve. Basically, I told Vernon to not pay him any attention last night so he won’t get his hopes up for something special, and that way, he could surprise him more effectively later on.”

“That’s really...” Jihoon searches in his vocabulary for the most applicable word to describe the twisted inner workings of Soonyoung's brain.

“Clever? Helpful? Genius?”

“Manipulative, sinister, downright evil,” he counters with a decisive nod, making Soonyoung pout at him indignantly, but not for too long.

“So anyways,” the older of the two of them resumes his babbling once the quiet reaches a total of three whole seconds, “We started talking and he kinda opened up to me and said that he feels really bad because Seungkwan is the one who always brings up new things in their relationship and he never suggests anything exciting or interesting,” here Soonyoung stops to shrug as if to say ‘Can't do much about that’, then continues on a slightly different note: “In the end I invited him to talk it over with me on the way to that one  costume store near Myeongdong station I was looking into – I told you I was thinking about ideas for the next comeback. I wasn’t kidding around when I said that, I was completely serious.”

“Wait, what happened after you and Hansol went to that store?” Jihoon cuts him off before the point gets completely lost.

“Oh, well…” Soonyoung interlocks his fingers sternly, laying his chin on the back of his connected hands in a businesslike manner. “He got really inspired after we got there.”

“Why?” Jihoon glances at him nervously, preparing for the inevitable fcepalm.

“Turns out the cool leather straps I saw in their ads? Yeah, they weren’t fake warrior grub like I originally thought.”

“Soonyoung…” Jihoon winces. “Don't tell me…”

“Yes, it was a sex store.”

Jihoon can't help it, his eyes widen out comically in disbelief, and he bends his body in half, letting wave after wave of mad laughter crash onto the rim of his steamy mug as he clutches it tightly with both hands in an attempt to seize some form of self-control back.

“Goddammit, Soonyoung. I can’t believe you actually encouraged him to buy something from there! I can't believe you actually convinced him to go with this stupid plan in the first place,” he whizzes into his coffee, and Soonyoung fixes him with a smug grin, clearly pleased with the reaction.

“Are you doubting my amazing persuasion skills?”

“You are pretty good at bullshitting your way into people’s hearts,” Jihoon admits with another snort. “I mean, at least, as far as I was told... “ he quickly adds.

“I’m naturally charismatic.” Soonyoung folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, an act which almost sends him plunging straight into the floor. But luckily, his dancer reflexes manage to kick in before that can happen, and he pulls himself into a proper sitting position, clearing his throat distractingly once he fully readjusts.

“Wait, does that mean Seungkwan’s Secret Santa was Hansol?” Jihoon wonders after two additional minutes of biting his lips to suppress giggles.

“Yeah.”

“Then… were you mine?”

“Yes, I thought it was pretty obvious when I asked you about what you wanted for Christmas the other day.”

_Oh_ , _interesting_.

“So wait, you're telling me–” Jihoon begins, not quite knowing how to phrase himself.  “Did you go through all that trouble just… just so I could ‘get some peace and quiet around here’?”

Of course, that supposed goal couldn't have been farther from what indeed went down the previous night. But still, you need to give credit where it’s due, and Soonyoung has clearly made some sort of effort in order to achieve his definition of ‘peace and quiet’. A lot of effort, in fact. Far more than was actually necessary.

“To be fair, the kid went up to me first, so I didn’t have to try much. But yeah, basically.” Soonyoung hums in confirmation, and his hands resume their flittering around and roam across the table to cram a piece of toast inside his mouth.

“Well, I appreciate the effort,” Jihoon says and glances down at his mug, thumbs drawing small circles along the porcelain in sudden sheepishness. “Thank you, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung grins at Jihoon around a mouthful of bread and removes one hand from the table so he can put it on top of his head, patting the fluffy mess of hair that sits there in mutual acknowledgement. The gesture only drives Jihoon to land a well-precise karate chop to the inner side of Soonyoung’s elbow, causing him to let out a sharp yelp in pain, and cradle his reddening arm against his chest right away.  

Soonyoung glares at Jihoon through his tears and puffs out his cheeks in an obvious display of displeasure, but before he can take his revenge, the buddy-buddy atmosphere gets shattered by someone shouting distressingly from down the hallway.

“My bed!”

_Huh_ , _they_ _had_ _sex_ _on_ _Jisoo’s_ _bed_ , Jihoon realizes.

Why does he feel like that sentence has the same comedic value as one of Soonyoung’s imbecilic puns?

“Yo, Mingew, you’re burning up my eggs. What gives?” Minghao demands shortly after Jisoo’s outcry reverberates throughout every corner of the flat.

“Why don’t you make your own breakfast?! It’s not like you can’t cook!”

“I was going to, but then you offered to do it for me, you absolute dickwad! What, too much gas fumes killed your memory cells?!”

“I’m sorry! Geez! I’ll make you new ones!  Do you want them scrambled or fried?!”

Whilst world war three almost breaks out in the kitchen, Jisoo emerges to the living room from the direction of the bedrooms, pouring insane amounts of hand sanitizer all over his palms, and rubbing them furiously together. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I actually touched it! I’m going in the shower after I finish burning my sheets, if I don’t come out in two hours don’t send help, I need it,” he announces with a ghostly-pale expression, and stomps back to where he’s just come from.

“Well, I’m off to the shower,” Soonyoung clicks his tongue and winks at Jihoon before getting up from the kitchen island and skipping towards the back of the house. “Seokminnie, get your butt into the bathroom with me!”

“Good morning, hyung.” A deflated Hansol plummets onto Soonyoung’s vacant chair, almost submerging his face in the bowl of scalding-hot ramen Junhui’s places before him, as he lets it fall against the table with a painful-sounding thud. There’s no longer a blanket draped around him and nothing more. No. Now he’s just wearing boxers and nothing more.

“Um, you can go in the shower before me if you want,” Jihoon offers the exhausted boy next to him awkwardly. “I can wait till Shua-hyung finishes.”

“Thanks, but I’ve already been in the shower for like a whole hour last night, so I’m good,” Hansol mumbles into the wooden surface of the table, voice muffled and not at all reflective of his words.

“Hyung, I don’t think I understand people very well,” he grunts out incoherently after another second.

“You can say that again…”

A deep sigh escapes Jihoon’s lips when he dares to look beyond Hansol’s slouched and nearly naked form, and further on to the rest of his surroundings, noting how the rest of his members are busying themselves with either fighting one another, acting dramatic for no rational reason, or simply lazing around  

“I’m surrounded by idiots…”

Jihoon can’t help but smile. 

 

 


End file.
